Fluffy Stuffy 2
by musicalBlink
Summary: It's time for round two! The ship for this oneshot series is Dave/Karkat. The song is Demons by Imagine Dragons. Each line or two gets a oneshot. Suggestions are welcome if you have them. This will mostly go with the title and be cutesy fluff, but there is a chance I'll throw some sadstuck in there. T for language. Otherwise, it should be pretty clean, other than cuddles. CX
1. When The Days Are Cold

**Okay, so my other multi-chapter "Let's Read Homestuck" was deleted. For whatever reason, I feel weird not having two multichaps up. Therefore, I'm just gunna start this oneshot series off right now, despite the fact that I was originally going to wait for "Eridan's Ark" to be over first.**

**If you follow me, I'm sure you remember "Fluffy Stuffy", that pb&j oneshot series, right? It works just like that. One chapter for every one or two lines of the song Demons by Imagine Dragons. Expect mostly pointless fluff with a chance of sadstuck. This time, I'll be doing Dave/Karkat. Assume it's the stereotypical AU of the game being nonexistent and trolls and humans mingling on the same planet in peace, unless I specifically say otherwise. This should be fun. CX**

**Please review and shit!**

Karkat's POV

I wake up to the biting cold of shitty heating in the middle of winter. I'm curled up in a queen-sized bed to the far left side. My roommate and boyfriend of two years, Dave Strider, is in the middle of the bed, with the blanket partially on him and partially falling off the bed.

Shivering, I edge towards him with the plan to pull the blanket in a way that it will cover both him and myself. In my head, this is the perfect plan and will result in nothing but success. Naturally, I'm an idiot for even thinking that something as simple as moving a fucking blanket so I don't freeze to death could be easy.

First and foremost, I'm just barely too small to reach the blanket without somehow disturbing Dave. I remedy this easily enough by putting my hands on the opposite side of Dave. Clearly, this position is way more hazardous than something like getting the fuck off my ass and just walking around the bed and retrieving the blanket the way a reasonable person would, but it's worth not putting my already cold toes on the no doubt colder floor.

When I deem myself stable enough to continue with my blanket-grabbing ventures, I carefully lift my right hand off of the bed to reach for the rectangular source of warmth. This slight shift in weight is enough to make the blonde-headed human murmur in his sleep and roll towards my hand. I hold my breath, close my eyes, and hope he doesn't move again. One more movement on his part could send me toppling. No doubt he would wake up to the noise and see me sprawled out on the floor. I can't let something as stupid as that happen; he would never let me live it down.

After a full two minutes of silence, other than the sound of our breath and his slight, quiet snoring (he refuses to acknowledge any such accusations of snoring even though anyone who has been arround him while he's asleep knows he snores), I make my move. I slowly move my right hand towards the blanket, barely breathing and glancing at the taller boy underneath me every couple of seconds.

Thirty seconds of needlessly slow, quiet movement later, I manage to get a fistful of blanket. I try to pull it towards me, but it's caught on something. Carefully, I rely more on my arms so that I can peer over the edge of the bed. A small hole in the corner of the blanket is caught on the bed frame. Go fucking figure.

Seething, I lean dangerously farther forward. My breath catches in my throat as I feel myself start to plummet towards the floor. Luckily, I manage to catch myself on the side of the bed before I could collide headfirst with the floor. How in the everloving fuck am I supposed to get the blanket now? I'm not even entirely sure how to get up at all much less get warmer along the way.

I sigh deeply, attempting to inch my way back up the bed, praying Dave doesn't wake up. This is probably an even more ridiculous position than if I had just blatantly fallen. At least if I had fallen, I could have used the blanket on the floor as an excuse, but this? There was absolutely no excepatble way to explain it away as somehow being someone or something else's fault. It would all be on me.

Despite being certain I'd fail miserably, I manage to pull myself back onto the bed. I look at Dave to make sure he didn't wake up. As my shitty luck insists, ruby red eyes are blinking up at me in confusion.

An sleepy, unusually thick Texan accent meets my ears. "What're you doin'?"

I look at my hands, face slighlty flushing with embarassment. "Getting the fucking blanket. What else could I possibly be doing, dumbass?"

"Fuck this shit." he mumbles, clearly still tired.

He yanks me down on top of him, putting our faces mere inches apart. With his free hand, he grabs the blanket and pulls it until there's a distinct ripping noise breaking the silence. He tucks the blanket under us, and proceeds to cuddle into my side, nuzzling the top of his head into my neck. I wrap my arms around him, pulling him and his warmth closer to me. He entangles our legs in a way that makes it impossible for one of us to get up without the other's cooperation.

As I said, my plans to get the blanket are stupid. This is way better than stealing some dumb blanket. I have all the warmth I could possibly need.


	2. And The Cards All Fold

**An eleven year old boy is in my room continuously trying to explain Minecraft to me. Writing more fanfiction is my only excuse to not stand right next to him and politely listen to him while he explains gaming shit that I have no need or care for. I told him that I have lots of people following this story and that I haven't had a chance before just now to update it. Cuz, y'know, y'all are definitely upset that I haven't updated despite the fact that I only started the story recently.**

**Scratch that. He has just informed me that he is nine years old, not eleven.**

**I am a disgusting person, and I'm going to hell. X_X**

Dave's POV

_"Man, I'm as fresh and cool as a cucumber. All them other veggies be hatin' on me cuz I'm so much fresher and cooler than them. But deep inside, those other veggies know I'm the best. They're like 'yo, dog, that's one cool cucumber'. That's why they leave me alone: they know I'm too fucking cool and fresh for them. So, it's not that I avoid the parties cuz I don't wanna go. It's cuz nobody there is worthy of my presence. You feel me, John? Like, a movie star wouldn't up and go to some lame ass little kid's party, so why the fuck should I? You don't want the paparazzi up on me, do you, Egderp?"_

_"Dave, that's a stupid excuse, even for you. Now come on! You've lived here in Washington for three years. What are you so afraid of? It's not even a huge party. You'll probably know half the people there, if not more."_

_"What even is the point of bringing me to one of your boring parties if you're just gunna leave the coolest kid in the room all on his lonesome so that you can go talk to one of your dork brethren?"_

_"Aww! Does wittle Davey need somebody to hold his hand?"_

_"What? No, man, that's not even-"_

_"Then why not?! You don't even have to admit to having a good time! Just come and chill or whatever it is cool kids do."_

_"Do I have to?"_

_"Yes. Go get dressed. You can't go to a party in your boxers."_

_"Ugh, fine."_

* * *

><p>I watch, not even slightly uncomfortable or annoyed at all, as John drifts into the Red Sea of people with a bucktoothed smile plastered on his face in a way that has to hurt within moments of our arrival. Sighing, I drift over to the drinks table and grab a Coca Cola. This is going to be <em>tons<em> of fun.

I slowly walk from room to room to pass the time, sipping my drink as I go. John was right: I see plenty of people I know. That is, if you consider anyone you met at least once as being someone you "know". The next half hour of the party proves to be just as disappointing as the first two minutes were. The most interesting thing that happens is that I, the valiant knight, save Princess Dorito and several of her sisters from the snack table.

After a while, I start to hear a slightly more prominent commotion from the dining room. I follow the noise to find John and the grouchiest of his friends, Karkat Vantas, playing a game of cards. They're clearly arguing over something.

"Yo, what's happenin', Egderp?" I greet.

Upon seeing me, his eyes light up like a crazy mass murderer when they see they're weapon of choice. "Dave! I'll bet Dave."

I raise an eyebrow questioningly, but I'm beat to the punch of questioning this by an especially small troll. "Wait, since when do you even fucking know that guy? Do you not realize that he is the most insufferable douche on the entire fucking planet? The fuck do you think I even want to own that guy for twenty-four hours for?"

"It doesn't matter." John says, grinning. "I'm going to win anyways."

"You are not! Clearly my skills are far more superior than your pathetic lack of brains. I swear you are so fucking stupid; you're as stupid as, if not stupider than, a pink monkey." Karkat sputters out angrily.

John giggles. "And you're as intelligent as an adorable little kitten."

This guy is obviously seething. Though it's plenty of fun to watch such a little guy scream so loud for practically no reason, I'm still oddly curious about exactly what the fuck it is that makes John think he has the right to bet with me. "Hey, so, what exactly are a couple of derps like you doing?"

Karkat opens his mouth, no doubt to make some kind of raunchy retort to me calling him a derp, but John slaps a hand over his mouth before he can."We're playing rummy. The first person to reach 500 points wins."

"So what exactly does your card game have to do with me"

"For each round, each person has to bet something of similar or equal worth. He bet Terezi for twenty-four hours, now I'm betting you."

"Uh huh." _Stay calm, Strider. _"And you didn't think that there might be any chance that I would like to not be betted with?"

"It's not even that big of a deal, Dave. I am boss at rummy."

Behind my shades, I glance around at the expectant faces all around and internally sigh. "Okay, but if you lose I'm going to kick your ass."

* * *

><p>John is awful at rummy. All in all, he lost thirty bucks, all of his Nic Cage movies, me, and his dignity.<p>

Karkat and John came to the agreement that John could have his Nic Cage movies back immediately because "what even kind of moronic retard would want to be stuck with such gogawful cinematic failures anyways?"

On the other hand, they had decided that Karkat "owns" me for a full twenty-four hours. This gives him the right to put down any rules he wants, and I have to follow them. If I break any of his rules, I will continue to belong to Karkat for the next twenty-four hour period on top of the original time. This means I have to do _anything _he wants.

In all honesty, I find myself especially nervous that he's going to make this sexual. He's not exactly a gentle person, so I doubt that he would just make me do chores around his dorm. Really, what else is there that he would want to make me do? The contemplative look on his face and the glances towards me as he's driving us to his dorm does absolutely nothing for my imagination.

Despite my misgivings, all he does when we arrive is tell me to go to sleep because he will be waking me up early. So, I crawl into bed with minimal complaints without bothering to strip to my boxers or set my shades aside the way I usually would.

* * *

><p>At 7:15 AM, I wake up to a slightly rough shaking. "Strider. Dumbass. Get up. Gog, you sleep like a fucking rock."<p>

I smirk slightly, eyes still closed behind askew shades. "Last time I checked, rocks don't even sleep."

I hear a low growl of annoyance. "Fuck you. It's too early for your idiotic babbling."

"I would have thought you'd want to fuck last night, not now, early in the morning, when any reasonable person would be sleeping."

I crack an eye open to see him blushing fiercely. "What even makes you think I'd want to have sex with some insufferable douchenozzle like you? You would probably do something really stupid like rap right in the fucking middle of it."

"Oh, you think about this a lot, huh, Karkat?" I wiggle my eyebrows suggestively, though they barely make it above my shades.

"No! Jegus fuck, just shut up!"

"So you'd rather fuck with Jegus?"

He facepalms. "You are impossible."

"No, I'm Kim Possible."

"It is officially against the rules for you to spew anymore bullshit from your mouth until further notice."

I let my smirk fade to neutrality. "Aw, you're no fun, Karkles."

"Strider, what did I just fucking say?"

I sigh, but don't press my luck any further than that. No need to get myself into any trouble this early in.

* * *

><p>I get the wrinkles out of my clothes with my hands the best I can before going to Karkat's car with him. We go to my house first so that I can change into something presentable: black jeans with holes in the knees, red converse, a t-shirt with a gear on it, and a red hoodie. Karkat demanded I change my pants. He doesn't consider that as being good enough for whatever he has planned, and refused to be seen in public with me dressed like that. Whatever. I'm pretty sure he was just looking for something to bitch about.<p>

We get back in his car and drive off to a destination he refuses to disclose to me.

"Are we there yet?"

"No"

"Are we there yet?"

"No"

"Are we there yet?"

"Didn't I say you couldn't fucking talk?"

I playfully pretend to think about that, rubbing at my sadly hairless chin. "No, for the life of me, I can't remember any such thing."

"Well, I'm reminding you right fucking now. That I most certainly did tell you to shut your trap so that you don't poison the world with your idiocy."

I scrutinize him as obviously as I can with my shades on. "Hm..."

"What?" He snaps self-consciously.

"You look awfully tired. Maybe you should let me drive. After all, we can't be having you fall asleep while you're driving. Turn us into a Volvo pretzel around a tree or some shit."

"We are in a shit-assed, fifty year old pickup truck, not a fucking Volvo. And... Was that a Twilight reference?"

"Shit. No."

"'If you turn us into a Volvo pretzel around a tree trunk you could probably just walk away.' Bella said it. Oh my fuck," He laughs lightly. "Are you seriously...?"

One glance at my flushing face leaves him giggling like a hyena. "Fuck you, man."

Eventually, he gets a hold of himself and pushes that open smile back into his usual slight scowl. I find myself frowning a little. Even though he was laughing at my expense, I had actually really liked seeing him laugh. I silently vow to make him laugh and smile that openly again before the end of his ownership over me.

"So, where exactly are we going anyways? The moon? Over the rainbow? Canada?"

"Well, I've been awake for more than two hours now, so I was going to grab something to eat."

"Cool. Where to?"

"Something fast. I'll probably end up going to a McDonald's and filling my fucking arteries with death-inducing salt."

"Sounds like fun, Karkles. We shall die side by side from the terrible sodium chloride."

I strike a dramatic pose and smirk as a small smile twitches at the side of his mouth.

* * *

><p>McDonald's fucked up his order. They gave him a bacon McGriddle with no egg. I gave him some from mine, because neither of us gave enough shits to bother storming McD's for some egg.<p>

As soon as we had the food, we continued to drive off to where ever the fuck it is we're going. I can't help but think that his slightly more friendly than usual behavior is proof that he's feeling guilty for whatever it is he's got planned. The farther we drive, the more worried I become.

Of course I don't let that show though. Can't let the princess know that the knight is getting nervous... Wait, where the fuck did that come from? Ugh. This is so stupid.

To distract myself from these thoughts, I look out the window and attempt to find a familiar landmark. No luck. We're more than half an hour out in a direction I had never had to go in before. Maybe Dirk's boyfriend had a point when he said it's best to explore the area around you. Karkat could be dropping me off in the middle of a desert to die all alone, and I wouldn't know it until it was too late. On the other hand, even if I did know where we were going for a fact, there isn't much of anything I could do to stop us from arriving anyways. Damn I hate surprises.

Despite my treacherous expectations, we pull into the parking lot of a gorgeous park with a playground, pond, and nature trails. I blankly watch as Karkat climbs out of the car like this is the most natural thing in the world. After he gives me an odd look for not getting out immediately, I climb out of the pickup truck, slamming the door behind me.

"So," I start awkwardly. "A park."

"No shit, douchenozzle. Where the fuck did you think we were going?" He's contemplative for a moment before allowing a nearly nonexistent grin onto his face. "The moon? Over the rainbow? Canada?"

I chuckle and try to play it off as nothing, but I have a sneaking suspicion that he saw through that to the truth, considering the hurt frown on his face.

"I'm not that bad," he mutters, before walking off to the playground.

* * *

><p>Even though it was a bumpy start, we had lots of fun. No one wants to leave even though we've been here for more than three hours. We went to the pond to visit the baby ducks and their mother. We walked up and down and all around on the nature trails, getting lost sixteen times. We played on the playground, but only after we terrorized the kids at the playground. Thinking back on it, that was really mean of us. I feel no guilt whatsoever. After Karkat proved his manliness by squealing like a two-year old girl, he allowed me to push him on the swing, "but not that fucking hard! fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck- eeeeeeeekkkkkk!". I even managed to get him to climb a tree! Granted, he couldn't get down on his own once he was up... But it was all in good fun.<p>

If Bro had seen how much I have smiled today, I have no doubt he would give me shit about this day for the rest of my life. And you know what? I'm okay with that.

After having such a great time at the park, I'm not nearly as reluctant to get into the car and go with what Karkat had planned. I climb into the passenger seat and watch him expectantly. He rolls his eyes at my eagerness and goes straight to the trunk. He pulls out a picnic basket, not some makeshift thing, an actual picnic basket with the checkered blanket on top and everything.

I chuckle. "I'm going to have to tell John he can bet with me all he wants."

A snort of derision and a roll of eyes on Karkat's part. I've come to the conclusion that that's kind of like his smile/laugh. "Yeah, so maybe I'm not being too much of an ass. What in the everloving fuck makes you think someone else would be this merciful to you, Strider? Besides, it's not too late for me to change my mind."

"Yeah, cuz you've totes proven that you are an extraordinarily cruel person. Like seriously, what kind of awful person makes someone go to a park? You're mind is a particular brand of twisted, Karkles."

"Damn straight. I am fucking bloodthirsty. I'm just beefing you up for the terrible things to come." Another thing: the more relaxed he becomes, the more he shows that he actually _is_ capable of having a sense of humor.

We walk to a patch of grass in the sunlight and set out the blanket. I ironically act like a butler and put the food out. When we sit down to eat, we're sitting at entirely opposite sides of the blanket, but somehow we end up sitting shoulder to shoulder by the time we finish eating. Neither of us really cares to leave anytime soon, and Karkat says nothing pressing is on his mental agenda for another hour, so we relax on the blanket.

I discover great joy in teasing him. He just so happens to be sincerely adorable when he's annoyed or, at least, when he's pretending to be. Of course, I'm never going to say that. Hell, I never even really talked to the guy before today. It would be insane to start calling him adorable all of a sudden...  
>With that in mind, I should probably stop calling him adorable inside of my own thoughts.<p>

Around two of the clock, Karkat reluctantly says we need to leave. I consider attempting to persuade him to just chill at the park, but, in the end, I just give a swift nod and go to the pickup truck with him, still talking as we go. The conversation fades off into mostly comfortable silence, but after a while something off about the entire thing starts to nip at the back of my mind.

"Hey, Karkat?"

"What the fuck do you want, assmuncher?"

"To munch your ass." I deadpan, not meaning a single word.

Nonetheless his face becomes a bright red. "Shut up!"

I smirk. "I'm just teasin' you, man. I was actually gunna ask if your CD player was broken or some shit."

"Oh," he says. "No, it's not broken. What's it matter?"

"I just thought it was kind of odd since most people be listenin' to sick jams in the car, and you haven't had music playing in the car all day."

"I just didn't think you'd really like my kind of music." he says vaguely, pointedly looking at the road ahead instead of at me.

"What is it, screamo?"

He scoffs. "What kind of dipshit listens to some guy scream that he hates his dad or something in exchange of actual cultured music?"

"Honestly, I thought you'd be that kind of dipshit."

He just rolls his eyes without a word.

"So, what kind of music do you listen to?"

"None of your fucking business."

"Everything is my business. It's practically my job to know everything. Somebody call me up and be like 'yo, who's that guy', and I'd be like, 'oh, that guy? yeah, that's Mr. Herp Derp'. See what I mean, Karkles?"

"No wonder you're such a fucking idiot. You use the few brain cells you have to make up stupid names like that."

"But seriously though. What kind of music is it? It can't be that bad."

He silently looks ahead. Once it's clear that he has no intentions of answering, I take matters into my own hands and play the CD he has in his CD player. Soft, soothing music pours out of the somewhat staticy speakers. We listen in silence for a few moments.

"Bach's flute sonata... in e minor, right?" I ask tentatively as we pull into a parking lot.

He turns to look at me, jaw dropped. "How in the everloving fuck would a moronic dipshit like you know that? I thought you listened to that obnoxious rap shit."

"And I thought you listened to screamo. What exactly is your point?"

"Why the fuck does your car always sound like nothing but base then?"

"It's for the ironies. With the base turned up that high, no one would ever suspect that I'm listening to classical. It's pretty damn funny to screw with people about stuff like that. Like, I'll say I really like a rap artist, but I'll be making up the name. Then, the person I'm talking to says he likes that rapper too even though he obviously has no idea who the fuck it is that I'm talkin' 'bout. It is so fucking funny." I say, grinning broadly.

He smirks slightly. "That's so stupid."

"Then, why are you smiling?" I say smiling wider.

His smirk widens into a small smile. "Why are you smiling?"

All of a sudden, I notice that our faces are kind'a sort'a getting really close. So close that if I lean just a bit closer, I could-

**_BEEPBEEP_**

Karkat pulls back, startled by the sudden loud noise erupting from my pocket.

I sigh. "Sorry,"

I pull out my phone to see I've received a text from John. _You alive?_

_Yeah, man. It's totes chill. But I'm busy, so go away._

_Wow. And I thought I was being nice and giving you a break from whatever it is._

_It's fine, but you're gunna get me in trouble, kay?_

_Oh, okay. Well I'll see you tomorrow I guess. :B_

I put my phone away, not bothering to answer. Looking back up at Karkat reveals that his little smile has been replaced with a much more neutral expression.

"So," I start. "What're we going to do here? You gonna go on a shopping spree and have the man carry all your baggies?"

"And what the fuck are you implying with that?"

"Absolutely nothing, Karkles." I smile innocently.

He grumbles under his breath, but doesn't reply to my playful teasing in any purposeful way. Instead, he gets out of the car, uselessly slamming the door behind him. I get out as well and walk side by side with him up to the entrance of the mall. Rather than go into a store, he leads me to the small movie theater in the mall. I raise an eyebrow, but he says nothing in return.

He speaks through the glass to a troll with a cowlick. "Can I get two tickets to the Fault in Our Stars."

The guy looks between the two of us and snickers. The guy has a pretty obnoxious lisp. "Theriouthly?"

Karkat glares at him. "What? Are you such an idiotic nooksniffer that you have a problem with two guys going to see a fucking movie? Because if you do, you need to get a new job because you're clearly not cut out for something as strenuous as selling two movie tickets. Do we need to-"

"Holy fuck. Chill your thit. You guyth jutht look like a really weird couple ith all."

"Woah." I speak up. "Who even says we're a couple? We could just be a couple of bros, chillin'."

"Yeah, and watching romantic tradgedieth together. Totally." he says sarcastically.

I'm about to defend myself further when the guy interrupts me. "Look. I honethtly have no thitth to give what you guyth do. Okay?" he says taking out two tickets to the movie. "That'll be fifteen twenty."

Karkat pulls out his wallet, but I swiftly step in front of him and pay before he can. He gives me a "what the fuck" face. "You payed for breakfast and gas throughout today, and I don't even know what the fuck it is that's happening after this. You're not going to pay for everything today."

He shakes his head. "Have I ever informed you that you're an insufferable prick?"

"You might've." I say, smirking.

We walk into the theater after getting popcorn and two small drinks.

I hear the lispy bastard at the counter say we're a weird couple once more.

* * *

><p>I try to watch the movie. I really do. But this is way beyond the kind of movie I'd normally watch, and I just can't seem to get into it the way I can with most movies. Instead, I find myself watching Karkat. I'm not even watching the screen or listening to the actors speak their lines, because Karkat's face is so much more expressive than anything the actors could pull off. Now, I see why he got the Twilight reference, because he seems to be really into romances in general.<p>

He cries several times throughout the movie, glancing over at me out of the corner to make sure I didn't see him wiping his tears away. I pretend not to notice despite the fact that I'm actually staring right back at him every time he looks over at me. Thank God for shades.

We have an awkward movie date moment... more or less. We both reach for the popcorn at the same time and touch hands. Except instead of holding hands with me, Karkat pulls his hand back like it was hit with lightning and flushes such a deep red that it can be seen even in the dark of the movie theater. After that, neither of us tries to get any popcorn. We both sit with our hands in our laps.

I think it's safe to say we're both glad when the movie ends at about five of the clock. We leave as soon as the credits start to roll, not waiting for the general rush of people leaving that was sure to come within a minute or two.

We go to the car at a semi-relaxed pace. When we get in, neither of us minds the soft music that automatically starts to play when the car is started. I lose myself in the music and thoughtlessly stare out the window, watching the trees whip past us.

The silence goes on for a full ten minutes until Karkat speaks. "You play?"

"Huh?" I ask intelligently.

"You were playing piano in your lap. I was curious if you actually play or..." I look down and realize that I was unconsciously playing along with the song (Bagatelle No. 25 in a minor).

I turn my carefully posed hands into fists in my lap. "I play a little, but not all that great." I chuckle. "Definitely not anywhere near as good as John or anything."

A snort of derision. "John is majoring in music, so I think that's a pretty stupid comparison to begin with."

I shrug, not really wanting to continue the conversation anyways. I think he understands that, because he doesn't press the subject any further. Nonetheless, I see him occasionally glance at me out of the corner of his eye to see if I'll do it again, but I don't. We arrive at our destination too quickly for that.

* * *

><p>I look around in barely suppressed childish glee. We're at a carnival of sorts with rides, games, and a guaranteed good time. We enter the carnival like a couple of little kids, vowing to win every game and ride every ride in sight.<p>

We start with a ring toss. I manage to get a ring around one of the bottles close to the one in the center, so I have a choice of several smaller prizes. I choose a cute crab plushie and give it to Karkat, joking that it reminds me of him. He rolls his eyes and does a half-assed job of insulting me back, but nonetheless holds the crab like it's something special.

Next, we go on the merry go round, because fuck yes. I haughtily declare myself the bestest knight in the multiverse as I ride my stallion proudly. I strike a pose and imagine myself with a misplaced red cape flapping in the wind behind me as I hold my sword high. Karkat pushes me off the hot pink horse with a bow in its mane as the ride comes to a stop and calls me a dork. I merely grin at him.

We stumble across one of those things where you slam a hammer down to test your strength. Both Karkat and I participate. I reach about two thirds of the way up to "NOT BAD, BUT NOT HERO MATERIAL EITHER". Whatever. Karkat almost rings the bell, but comes a few inches short. He demands a retry until the guy running it get's tired of hearing him and let's him try again. This time it rings loudly and slams back down. The lanky man looks rather startled as he lets Karkat get a prize. He chooses an enormous pink unicorn plush and gives it to me, saying I can act like the dork I am whenever I want to. I tell him I have every intention of doing so, but only if he will come be a dork too. He says he might be able to handle that. _Maybe._

It's nearing six of the clock, and the sun is starting to set. Karkat demands we go on the ferris wheel to catch a better look of it. I agree, and we race to the ferris wheel. I win the race, but it doesn't much matter. The wait for the ferris wheel is _at least_ five minutes long anyways. We pass the time with silly banter, making the people around us give us odd looks. We just make jokes about them, which makes them look away very quickly. Neither of us have even realized the time passing. When it's our turn, we hop into our car of the classic ride and strain our necks to see the sunset over the trees. Once it's in sight, we sit down, knees bumping into each other.

"You know," I say only half jokingly. "This feels like a date."

He looks at me, annoyance on his face. "Will you take off those gogdamned glasses off for a moment?"

"Why?"

"Because I can't tell if you're joking or not."

I scoot forwards a little bit. "And what if I'm not?"

"Then prove it."

I lean forward a bit more and kiss him. I am fully aware that this is the stupidest movie cliché in existence kissing at the top of a ferris wheel at the sun's set- but I fail to give any shits. This is probably the most unironically awesome moment of my entire life. Seeing his red eyes lit up with the sunset and happiness and the smile that shyly spreads on his face when I pull back- there's nothing better than this.

**Holy fuck. 5,000 words. WAY longer than I meant for it to be. **

**By the way, I have special people who deserve glomps and digital cookies: Zuckerwatte (Guest), MimiKeehl-Jeevas, Izzytail, Light Brown Shoes, and Sebby'sClosetKitten.**


	3. The Saints We See Are All Made Of Gold

**It is the fourth of July and my eye is twitching as explosions go off everywhere giving me the most severe sensory overload ever. I am combating this by closing all curtains, putting my back to the windows, listening to Beethoven's Fur Elise as loud as I can without Ma flipping out, and writing more fanfiction.  
><strong>**Is this shitty excuse for a holiday over yet?**

**So, this one is a typical zombie apocalypse AU. Anything else that you need to know can be gotten from the oneshot itself.**

Karkat's POV

I breathe heavily through my mouth as I run, a backpack strapped to my shoulders. Zombies seem to be coming from all sides, but I barrel through them despite they're grabbing. I slice through the ones within arms length with my sickles in the hopes of making a dent in the swarming mass of zombies. The moans and garbled groans of the undead drown out everything except for my own heart beat.

They're starting to become too much for me. I desperately swing my sickles around me, praying it'll be enough to fend them off, even if for just a moment. The will to live is stronger than ever, yet the chances of that will being strong enough seem lower than ever. There's too many of them, too many of them for me to stand a chance.

In moments like this, it seems perfectly reasonable to say that any good that was once in this world is long gone. Most of the time, it seems that way: like there's no hope, no reason left to fight. Yet, against all odds, there's still one more spark of hope, one more reason to live. That reason to live is currently sprinting towards me, katana in hand.

He immediately starts to lob off the heads of the zombies closest to me so that I have enough room to fight properly. We twist and turn around each other to kill and defend. For the most part, we stay back to back, dispatching the zombies one by one. On multiple occasions, he's joked that this is our dance, our song, but I've never found it all that amusing.

Once it's safe to do so, we return to our base of sorts, an abandoned, two-story ranch house in a rural area of South Carolina. We climb up the ladder leading to the second floor window. We had destroyed the indoor staircase to make the house easier to defend. Upon entering, I collapse onto the couch in the corner of the room, sweat dripping down my forehead. The man sits down next to me and takes a deep breath.

He awkwardly grabs over the arm of the couch and brings up a bottle of water, offering it to me. I graciously take a swig before handing it back to him. He has a drink of water as well before closing the bottle back up and putting it in its place.

I grudgingly get up and rag the ladder inside. I close and lock the window as well. We decide to make a rare exception to our usual rule of only one person sleeping at a time in favor of us both taking naps right away since it was obvious neither of us was actually going to be able to stay awake for a full watch anyways. We're both hot and sticky, but neither of us cares as we cuddle side by side, skin sticking together in unsavory ways.

* * *

><p>I wake up alone, surprisingly chilly. I look around for the source of the chill to find the window open.<p>

Panic surges through me. Did he leave while I was sleeping. I call out for him, trying to not sound too scared right off the back.

"Sup, Kitkat," he says as he casually strolls into the room.

"Why the fuck is the window open? For fuck's sake, I thought you'd left or some shit, dumbass."

"I did for a little bit, but I've been back for a while now."

"What! What were you thinking? You shouldn't go out on your own. What if something had happened, and I wasn't there?"

"Chillax. Everything is perfectly fine."

"Perfectly fine? How in the everloving fuck can you possibly draw a conclusion like that when we're basically doomed to fucking die?"

"Because. I've got this."

He shows me a small battery run CD player. He goes off to the side of the room. After he presses various buttons, a waltz begins to play. He stiffly walks over to me and offers a hand.

"May I have this dance?"

Tentatively, I put my hand in his, and we dance.

We are absolutely dreadful. Constantly stepping on each other's toes and simply making up dance moves as we go, we must look like a train wreck waiting to happen. Despite the clear flaws in our method, the dance is perfect- to me at least. It's amazing to lose myself in the music and my dancing partner.

Sometimes, it seems perfectly reasonable to say that any good that was once in this world is long gone. Most of the time, it seems that way: like there's no hope, no reason left to fight. Yet, against all odds, there's still one more spark of hope, one more reason to live. That reason to live is my most trusted friend and lover, Dave Strider, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

**I'm not sure exactly what this is? Not fluff, but not the potential sadstuck I warned might happen, so... :/**


	4. When Your Dreams All Fail

**I have nothing to put up here, but there needs to be something in bold or else my writing looks weird to me.**

Dave's POV

I remember meeting him like it was yesterday. I was twelve years old. I had just moved, so I didn't know anyone, which was fine, because I was perfectly chill and cool on my own. I didn't need to hang out with anyone or any of that shit. I was better off on my own anyways, or so I thought.

Well, anyways, the day my older Bro and I arrived at our new apartment, we had a little bit of an argument, and Bro got pretty fucking pissed at me, so I hightailed it the fuck outta there, running as fast as I could. We both know damn well that he could have easily caught me if he wanted to, but I'm pretty sure his original intentions were to make me leave. So, I was running and running, but I had to stop because my lungs were coming to the point where they were starting to forget that it's their job to bring air into my body so I can do totally awesome stuff like breathe. I had to stop or else I'm pretty sure my lungs would've been like "nope, fuck you" and exploded. I sat with my back to a tree and took the time to breathe.

A voice called from above me. "What the fuck are you doing?"

I looked up and saw an awfully scrawny troll. He was wearing an oversized sweater with baggy, grey jeans. At first glance, I assumed he was probably about eight years old. The I got to wondering what even an eight year old was doing dropping the F bomb... or hiding in a tree by himself.

"What are _you_ doing?" I asked right back.

"None of your gogdamned business!" he yelled. With that he retreated back to the branches above me. I thought that was one weird ass little kid, but I didn't do much to figure out who he was.

The next day, however, I learned that the eight year old I met at the park was actually twelve, and that his name was Karkat Vantas. That boy was told to take me from class to class throughout the day, because our schedules were nearly identical.

He made it clear that he thought I was an "insufferable prick" from the very start. I wasn't really sure what I had done wrong, but he always seemed really paranoid around me, like he was expecting me to throw a fist in his face. I couldn't imagine why: after actually talking to him, he seemed like a pretty cool guy. Slowly, we became pretty close friends. We were those two guys where no one would mention one without mentioning the other. It just wasn't heard of.

I also learned that the reason that he started off so paranoid of me was because he was being pretty severely bullied. Like, beat-the-shit-out-of-you-for-existing kind of bullying. The first time I saw someone hurting him, I completely fucking lost it. I knocked the shit out of that guy. He went home crying, and I got suspended for a week. I didn't give a shit; I'd have readily done it again- and I did. People learned to respect him.

Over the years, our friendship only gre stronger. God knows we acted like assholes around each other, but at the end of the day we were best bros, and nothing could change that. We were entirely inseparable; we did everything together. Sure, over the years we gainer our own respective friends and circles of friends, but we would still choose each other over our other friends.

In middle school, the beginnings of a crush started to emerge. By the time high school rolled around, I was pretty sure I was in love, like the real deal, get down on one knee and fucking propose already. But I didn't say a single damn thing. I was scared to death that if I said anything that he would hate me. Best bros aren't supposed to want to kiss each other senseless and hold hands in the park; best bros are supposed to fist bump and play video games.

Luckily, he ended up asking me out, so I wasn't doomed to loneliness for my entire life. We had the sort of relationship where nothing changed between us except that there was more kissing and stuff like that. But we didn't become that couple where everyone wonders why friendship was so easy but a relationship was doomed to ruin everything. We were still best bros, closer than ever.

And now? Now we're all grown up. We share an apartment a lot like the one I lived in with Bro. We've been together for four years, and I can't imagine finding anyone on the planet I'll ever care for more than Karkat. I am unconditionally and unironically in love with him.

That's why I'm going to propose to him tonight. We just finished a moderately fancy dinner out, and now we're heading towards the park where we first met. He doesn't know it yet, but I'm going to propose to him underneath the very tree we met in, the same tree we carved our initials into and claimed as our own. We're driving there right now in my bright red beetle.

I pull up to a red light, and demand a "redlight special" from Karkat. He rolls his eyes, but leans over and kisses me anyways. The light turns green to soon, and I pull out into the intersection.

An ear shattering crash comes from Karkat's side of the car. Chaos ensues: we flip sideways, glass shatters from all sides, horns are honking, people are screaming, blood is running down my face into my eye. More important than any of that is the pained shriek coming from my right.

A surging pain erupts from my skull, but somehow I manage to undo my seatbelt as well as Karkat's. I drag him out of the car, not having enough strength within me to carry him so that he doesn't drag through the shattered glass. I collapse to the ground, still clinging to my lover for dear life, with a sudden, extreme wave of vertigo.

A small whimper comes from the mangled body in my arms. I pet his hair and shoosh him, not knowing what else to do. He looks so broken and afraid. I just hold him closer and tighter with an odd hope that that will somehow hold him together and fix him. He looks up at me with fear filled eyes, and I nearly break down right then and there.

"Fuck," I say in a raspy voice that sounds alien to my own ears. "Karkat, don't die. Don't die, okay?"

He doesn't reply in any way other than a sharp breath.

"Look, Karkat, if you stay alive, we'll get married." I hastily pull out the ring I had handpicked for him. "Would you like that?"

Nothing.

"Karkat, I'm a little bit dizzy right now, so I'm not so sure I can stand on one knee and shit like they do in the movies, but I can the ring on your finger. All you have to say is 'I do'. You also have to stay awake."

Nothing.

"Karkat, speak to me."

Nothing.

"Karkat, please, please don't fucking leave me. You can't fucking leave me. You can't!"

Somebody starts to try to pull me away from his limp bopdy, but I thrash out at the person with a strength I didn't know I had in me and cling to my dead lover tighter than before.

"Please, please, please, I love you. Fuck I love you so much. Please stay alive. Stay alive PLEASE."

Nothing.

All of my dreams gone with one man. Dreams built up over years and years, knocked to nothing in mere moments. This shouldn't be possible, yet somehow it is. Everything I had hoped for: love, marriage, and maybe even some adopted kids- all gone beyond the point of return.

I sob quietly into my dream's shoulder, and wish all of this horror away. Of course, it doesn't work. It never does, does it? We're all left with whatever terrible things the world throws at us, usually with no way of changing it.

**How could I not sadstuck with a song line like this?**

**Anywho, I have a special person who deserves glomps and digital cookies: Black Nostalgia.**


	5. The Ones We Hail Are The Worst Of All

**Sup, motherfuckers? I know it's been longer than what is normal, and I'd like to formally blame Tumblr for being an addicting Lil Shit.**

**On that note, how bout we list some special people who deserve glomps and digital cookies: MimiKeehl-Jeevas (Guest), CathrineTheAssasin, Hurohana806, Yami Ryo, and Fatal Tendencies.**

**MimiKeehl-Jeevas: I warned ya, bro. I warned ya there'd be occasional sadstuck. I mean come on. "When your dreams all fail". How the fuck do you make _that _fluffy? Anywhore, this chapter will be happier, so don't worry, bro. I'll fix those feels of yours. C:**

**By the by, this one is on the meteor. Have fun, kiddies. :)**

Karkat's POV

I'm sitting at my grubtop taking care of my leaderly responsibilities (mostly just arguing with the fucking idiot of a troll I was an hour and a half ago). I'm not bothering anyone in the room besides myself, yet, lo and behold, here comes that insufferable douchebag, Strider, to piss on my already pissed parade.

"Yo," he says, standing behind me, reading over my shoulder like the nosy son of a bitch he is. "Arguing with yourself again, huh?"

I make a snap decision to just ignore him. Eventually he'll have to get bored with making an ass of himself and go work on one of his shitty comics or go bug the mayor for the billionth time. Honestly, I feel kind of bad for the little guy; Strider is even further up that guy's ass than mine.

"Karkat," He leans on the back of my spiny chair, making it tip back haphazardly. I force myself to act like it doesn't feel like I'm about to land flat on my ass.

"Karkles, bro. KK? Kitkat. Karkitty. Mr. Beep Beep Meow? Vantass? Vanpiss?" Nope. I do _not _have the patience for his bull shit right now. As if sensing this, he leans more heavily on the back of my chair to the point of draping himself over my shoulders. I grit my teeth and pretend that he doesn't even fucking exist. _There's no such thing as Striders. There's no such thing as Striders. There's no such thing as Striders._

"Duuuuuuuuuuude," He drawls out in that obnoxious accent of his. Nope. Nope. Nope. Not happening. Not happening. Not happening.

He then takes my lack of response as an incentive to sit his bony ass down in my lap and throw his legs over the arm of my chair where my left arm is resting. Damn it. I _know _he's doing this shit on purpose. I fucking _*know* _it, so why the fuck can't I just ignore it. I do my best to hide the annoyance on my face, but I don't think it actually works.

He starts to repeatedly poke my cheek, saying one of those idiotic nicknames with each poke. After this tactic of assholery proves inefficient, he just starts putting his cute face with freckles dusting his cheeks, a little button nose, and- fuck. That is not the way to be thinking right now. That is not even CLOSE to the way I should be thinking right now. He is an obnoxious little shit, and I want to knock those fucking glasses right off his gogdamn face, and kiss him, and wait. Fuck. That's not right either.

The closer his face gets to mine the more it short circuits, and the more I find myself thinking things that I really don't want to acknowledge at all. He's so close I can see the outline of his eyes behind his heavily tinted shades. It's basically impossible to ignore him at this point, and I can tell he knows it by that stupid, smug smirk on his face.

"What the fuck do you want, Strider?" I grumble, trying to look anywhere except him despite his being so close that he's all I _can_ see.

He gives me the most intense theatric look possible and says, "I've come to get a kiss from a knight."

I know he's just kidding. This is all just some huge joke to him, and I can't stand that. It's not fair that he doesn't seem to even notice how much he gets under my skin. He shouldn't get to just play around with this shit like it's just a game. I know it's crazy, and I know it'll probably be a catastrophe in the end, but you know what? I'm tired of playing games.

I put my hand to the back of his head, lifting it up closer to me. I lean down a tad bit and capture his lips. Somehow, I find that he's kissing me back. In the back of my mind, I acknowledge that he still probably thinks this is all just for fun, and that I should probably stop and tell him to stop leading me on like this. I should push his scrawny ass right onto the floor and call him out on all of his bull shit. But... He _is _kissing back. I know that this will make it even worse in the long run, but I just go with it and kiss him some more.

Don't misunderstand- this is absolutely nothing like in the movies. Despite claiming to get all the bitches, I can tell he's probably never even kissed anyone before. Not like I have much room to talk. All in all, it's awkward at best. Our noses keep bumping into each other, and neither of us really seems to know what to do with our hands. It's by no means perfect, but it's still way better doing it in real life than watching it on a screen or reading it in a book.

When I pull back, he's got a dazed look of shock on his face. _It's just an act_, I remind myself.

He chuckles nervously. "Well, damn. I didn't think you would actually kiss me. I thought you were gonna push me off you and maybe kick me in the face and definitely yell at me- plenty of yelling. But, um, I mean since when did you even do what I say, and why the fuck even did you do that, I mean we both know that you fucking hate me so why even would you kiss me. This isn't even funny or ironic or anything. You don't even like me the same I way I- shit. You know what I'm just gonna leave now before I fuck up even more"

He starts to get up, but I'm still processing all of the shit he just spouted out. "The same way you- what?"

"Nothing. It's not even fucking important."

"No," I pout. "I want to know, and you're not going anywhere until you tell me." With that, I clamp my arms down over him so that he can't move.

"Dude, what the fuck?"

"It is important, so fucking say it."

"Come off it, Karkat. This shit is just too much for you to comprehend."

I give him my best "death glare", as it's been dubbed by most everyone.

"Ugh. Fine. You already fucking hate me anyways, so why not, I guess. I like you, in case you hadn't been able to figure that out from me kissing you back even though it was super obvious you were just leading me on-" I stop listening at this point. Me leading him on?

"Shut up." I cut him off.

He looks like he's expecting me to knock the shit out of him. Even worse, he looks like he'd let me if I did. I find myself just kind of staring at him trying to figure my shit out. I decide that shit can be sorted later. For now, I'll just kiss this obnoxious asshole I've got pinned in my lap. Gog _knows _he's the hugest dick in the multiverse, but my emotions don't seem to quite understand that. Besides, since when was romance supposed to make any fucking sense anyways?


	6. And The Blood Runs Stale

**Hello, strangers. I have another chapter for ya. :) This one takes place a couple years after they win the game and all that good stuff. So, yeah.**

**Special people who deserve glomps and digital cookies are MimiKeehl-Jeevas (Guest) and julixjui**

**MimiKeehl-Jeevas: Woah. That is weird. O.o**

**Moving on!**

Dave's POV

Blood.

Blood is fucking everywhere. I'm in a sea of blood and the dead bodies of everyone I've ever cared about. The bodies begin to come to life. They're grabbing me, pulling me underneath the endless waves of red mixed with occasional rainbow colors. They want me to die. They hate me. Why couldn't I save them. Damn it. It was my fucking job to keep everybody safe. I'm the fucking knight, and I let them down. They're all dead. They want me dead too. Even though I wholeheartedly agree with them, I find self preservation kicking in and demanding I fight back.

Blood splashes up into my face. All I can see is red. I'm drowning. My lungs are screaming from the effort of holding my breath. Yet, still they drag me further and further down. Eventually, I just can't hold my breath any more and I take a big gulp of the coppery taste in my mouth. It burns it's way down my throat like a white hot rod.

Pain.

Suddenly, the world is on fire. Fire and blood. I'm burning and drowning all at the same time. I'm crying and screaming, begging anyone who could be listening to help me. But then I realize that the previoiusly animated corpses aren't purposefully moving anymore. They're floating back to the surface without me, rubbing against me as they go. The blood sizzles against my skin.

I let out one last, agonizing scream-

"Dave?"

-I'm falling into an abyss-

"Dave, wake up."

-The world is shaking-

"Dave!"

A new, sharp pain across my face brings me back to reality. I jolt awake, slamming my head against something hard. Someone yelps out in pain.

"Karkat?" I ask, opening an eye.

"No shit. Who the fuck else would it be?" He's trying to act normal, but I can tell from his half assed, barely there insults.

"Was it that horrorterror again?" he asks, probably already knowing the answer.

"Yeah," I mumble.

"Do you want to talk about it or whatever?" I can tell from his voice alone that even though he wants to help, he's not too keen on the idea of talking about it.

"Nah, man. It's cool."

"Okay," he says.

After a few moments of silence, he wraps his arms around me and scooches closer.

I turn my head around at an awkward angle so I can see his face. "What're you doin'?"

In the partially moonlit room, I can see the beginnings of a blush appear on is face. "Well, I never have any horrorterrors when we're cuddling..."

I smirk. "Does there really have to be a reason for cuddles, Kitkat?"

He huffs in that adorable way of his. "Shut up before I change my mind and make your ass sleep on the couch." With that he holds me a little closer, making it clear that no matter what he says, he'll never let me go.

I give him a quick peck on the lips before cuddling the shit out of the fucker.

**So, this is pretty short. :/**


	7. I Wanna Hide The Truth

**Holy fuck. I feel like it's been forever since I updated this, and I am so sorry. -_-"**

**Anywho! Special people who deserve glomps and digital cookies: TheDyingStory, kiwistickers, and julixjui. Y'all motherfuckers just step right up to claim your prize. CX**

Karkat's POV

I grumble unhappily to the lanky clown of a troll with me. Gog knows why, but once again, I had allowed him to persuade me to come to another one of these get together things that John threw every year. Every year, I'd only really know a handful of people, and the rest would be John's friends or John's friend's friends or Eridan. Every year, I would return home entirely exhausted by a catastrophic day of endless misery and bickering amongst ourselves. And every fucking year, John's "best bro", Dave Strider, would be there.

The fact that he shows up every gogdamn year baffles me considering the fact that he claims that he's too cool for Egbert all the time. I only ever really run into the guy at these little reunions John insists on. He says he's really into "sick beats and irony", but he's proved on multiple occasions that he doesn't have a single fucking clue what irony even is, and his music sucks ass regardless of what he says.

He is your typical douchebag through and through. His very presence is absolutely infuriating to me, but I think the worst part about the dickwad is that he forces me to like him- and not just a little bit either. I have to force myself to get angry with him just to remind myself that this guy is a fucking asshole and would only screw me over even if we got together.

So, here I am at a park on a chilly fall day with my best friend and moirail, Gamzee, waiting for the others to show up. The others come in twos and threes mostly: Rose and Kanaya; John and Dave; Terezi and Vriska; Aradia, Sollux, and Feferi. Don't misunderstand- plenty of other people are arriving. I just don't give enough fucks to actually list them all. What's important is that within half an hour of our arrival, the park was filled with sixteen obnoxious teenagers.

The prying eyes of parents are clearly waiting for us to vandalize something so they can call the cops. One or two look entirely willing to call the cops without us actually doing anything wrong. I see one younger parent staring at me in particular. I flip them the bird and stand a little ways away from the crowd. Maybe this way I won't be associated with these morons.

As I watch them have all have their obnoxious reunions, something or _someone _sharply jabs me in the back. I whirl around, reaching to the sickles I keep with me at all times, entirely ready to cut a bitch. Of course, it's just Strider being an insufferable douchebag as per norm.

"What the fuck are you doing, you incompetent piece of shit?" I snarl out, still half tempted to cut a bitch.

"I am challenging you to a completely ironic, all out battle to the death." He says with his usual masquerade of stoicism. Now that he's got my attention, I see he's holding a long, semi-sturdy stick the way people in the movies hold swords. He's gotta be kidding me.

"Shall you meet my challenge?" He raises a single eyebrow. He must have practiced that in the mirror for hours, because there's just no fucking way he could do that otherwise.

Even though I wanted to kill the fucker a couple of minutes, I find myself hesitating now. John says this guy's older brother is a fucking ninja, and that he's training Dave. Of course that could be John trying to get one over me. For that matter, it could be that Strider was bull shitting the kid. None the less, I'm kinda nervous to fight the guy.

"You chicken, Karkles?" he teases, smirking.

I speak without thinking. "Fuck no. Give me a stick; I'll whip your ass with it until you're crying for your mommy!"

"My mommy is dead." He deadpans, casually. He tosses me a stick fairly similar to the one he's got.

I brandish it with ease, trying to bait away the thoughts of how much of a disgusting piece of shit I am for saying that. I fucking _knew _his parents were dead. Why the fuck did I say that? Gog, I am such a gogawful, moronic-

"Yo, dude. We gonna fight or what? Cuz if you're too afraid of this amazing Strider skill I'd understand... that you're a fucking pussy."

His voice brings me out of my self-hatred so I can breathe. I glare at him, and lunge with the stick, feeling like a two-sweep old idiot.

I very quickly learn that the hype around his fighting skills is pure bull shit. He's always on the offense, not seeming to understand the fact that sometimes it's best to give a little ground and go on defense. All of his blows are extremely predictable. His feigns are obvious. His stance is too narrow. He holds his stick in an awkward way that makes it difficult for him to ever accomplish much more than a poke with it.

He shows no signs of upset. I, on the other hand, am actually kind of embarrassed for him. It's easy to see he's struggling, and that's with me going relatively easy on him. If his brother actually is a ninja, he's obviously not helping Dave at all. This guy wouldn't stand a chance against John for crying out loud!

I put him out of his misery, "killing" him with a swift stab to the stomach. He drops to the ground in the most fake, goofy show I've ever seen. He spins around, falls on his ass, and clutches his "wound". I cross my arms and roll my eyes, doing my best to resist the urge to laugh at his antics.

Seriously, he's barely on even ground with a fucking wriggler. Someday, this guy's gonna get raped and killed in an allie all alone. The fucker wouldn't stand a chance. With this in mind, I find myself demanding that he get up so that I can show him a little about fighting.

I go over my mental check list of shit he was doing wrong before beginning my tirade. "So first things first: spread your legs some. You can't-"

"Ooh sounds kinky." he interrupts me, smirking. Clearly, he's proud of himself.

"Strider, kindly shut the fuck up before I make you." I'm not going to lose my patience with this asswipe right now. This is fucking serious and he needs to get this shit straight or he's gonna end up in a ditch somewhere, dead.

He moves his feet apart some, though I can tell he wants to say something to that. I don't let him make whatever smartass remark he has in mind, immediately launching back into fixing his technique a little bit. "Your arms too; they don't need to be so close together."

He moves them apart, but he does it too much, leaving his torso entirely undefended. I make a snap decision that we're not going to play that whole game where he goes from one extreme to the other to piss me off. I step right up to him and put his arms in a fairly reasonable position.

I look up into his eyes- scratch that, his glasses. I fucking hate those things. Suddenly, I get an extreme urge to take them off. It's not the first time I've wanted to do something like that, but this is the first time that I wanted to take them off gently rather than slap them off his face. I fight down the temptation to steal his glasses, glancing away.

Instead of doing something as relatively reasonable as taking off his glasses, I find myself doing something _way _more hazardous. I kiss him. I stop as soon as I realize how much of an idiot I'm being. "Fuckfuckfuck I'm so sorry. That was so fucking stupid. I don't even know what I was doing. Fu-"

Before I can apologize again, his lips are on mine, and we're kissing. I hear some hollering and whistling from our gogawful group of dumbasses. I start to pull away because of them, but Dave holds me in place. Gog knows I'm blushing like a fire truck by the time he removes his lips from mine.

I always wanted to hide the truth about my feelings for this asshole, but maybe, just maybe, that's not necessary anymore.


	8. I Wanna Shelter You

**Boybz, XXshadowXXnightXX, sweetstitch, siobhanyavanna are my special peoplle who deserve glomps and digital cookies.**

**School will be starting up for me again in about a week. I'm not sure how my updates will be affected, if at all. Just thought I should tell y'all. Just in case. (:**

Dave's POV

I roam the halls during my lunch hour at school, bored as fuck. I could go chat up some of the popular kids in the cafeteria, but if I'm being entirely honest, I've never much cared for their type if you know what I mean. I'd rather just chill with my small handful of totally sweet friends and ignore everyone else. However, none of them are in my lunch hour, so I'm stuck purposelessly walking around the halls of hell school.

I pass some people I recognize. I nod at them as I go, not letting my gaze linger on any one of them for too long. Wouldn't want them to think I actually feel like talking to them, right? I stuff my earbuds in and crank my sick beats up all the way up for the sake of irony. Well... that and to block out the talking and obnoxious laughter of the other halldwellers.

I spend most of my lunch period doing exactly that and nothing else. I fully plan to continue this way until I have to head off to Algebra 2. At least, that's what I plan until a particularly loud ruckus interrupts the loud rap music funneling into my ears.

I pull my earbuds out and look in the direction of four trolls. Three taller, clearly stronger trolls- two guys, one girl -are crowded around a smaller troll -one guy- on the floor who's trying to get up and fight. The guy on the ground looks livid as hell. If the others would stop being a bunch of shitheads and holding him down, I can easily imagine the guy putting in his best effort to fuck all three of them up.

As it is, the biggest, most muscular of the trio is pinning him to the floor with one foot while the others kick him in the face and sides, taunting him. I'm pretty shocked that no teachers have come to the kid's rescue. It's not like any of this is quiet, quite the opposite really. Somebody will probably come help this guy soon enough, right? I look around, but conveniently enough, no one else is here.

I consider just walking away, despite his obvious distress. None of them have noticed me. I could turn around, pretend I saw nothing, not get my ass pounded to pieces... and feel like absolute shit for it later. Who am I kidding? I don't give enough shits about what people think to be especially bothered by it if people see I had my ass handed to me. On the other hand, if I don't help this guy now, I'm probably going to guilt trip myself about it for my entire life, even if no one else ever knows.

With this in mind, I creep up behind the trio as quietly as I can. I stand right behind the tough guy shoving his foot in the kid's back. I kick him in the crouch as hard as I can. With a little shriek/gasp he falls to his knees, freeing the smaller troll. The kid looks to me, eyes wide like he's looking at a maniac. What the fuck is this guy's deal?

"Run!" I shout, urging him to go. I turn to the two that remain standing, ready to hold them off so the kid can get away.

He gets the message... kind of. As he's running past, he grabs my wrist and yanks me after him, making it easy for the other two to take chase. Glancing at him out of the corner of my eye reveals that he's giving me a perfect wtf glare. I keep pace with his even run by sprinting almost the entire time. This little fucker is _fast_. I have to wonder how even those guys got ahold of him in the first place.

I look behind us for a second, trusting his steel tight grip on my wrist to keep me from running into a wall. The guy is still chasing us from behind, but the girl has disappeared. After zigzagging through parts of the school I'd never even gone through before, we manage to lose the guy too.

We silently agree to take a minute to catch our breath. I slide to the ground back against the wall while he plops his ass down on the ground, propping himself up with his hands behind his back. I notice, with embarassment, that the kid I just saved is breathing way easier than me. My lungs are in the process of convincing me that breathing is a near impossible feat and should be appreciated when possible.

"Are you out of your gogdamned mind?!" The kid yells as loud as he dares given that the other guys might still be on our tail. "Those fuckers could have kicked your ass to the moon! Wait, no- they're _still _going to kick your ass to the moon when they get their hands on you. Why the fuck even would you that, you gogdamned moron?"

Still wheezing a bit, I answer his totally misplaced insults with my usual coolness. "I saw a damsel in distress. What kind of awful knight would I be to not save you from those assholes?"

"I was not "in distress", and I'm definitely not a fucking damsel. More than anything, you're not a knight. Even if you were a knight, only a really stupid knight would cut into shit that isn't even any of his fucking business." He scowls up at me.

"Dude, that is literally all knights do in stories- butt in and kick ass."

"Yeah, but only because they want the girl." He looks so exasperated right now. It's actually kind of adorable. "What you did was entirely pointless, and now I'm gonna have you getting your ass kicked on my conscious. What even was the point of that?"

I look him over and shrug. I try to be nonchalant about the entire thing, but it's kind of hard to pretend you don't give a shit after something like this. "I wanted to help you."

He looks me over doubtfully. "I'm pretty sure you're the one who needs help."

"Well, I guess we're just gonna have to help each other." I stuff one of my earbuds back in my ear and put the other in his ear.

I stand up, crouched over, and offer him a hand up. After a moment of uncertainty, he takes my hand.

**Cutting it off here before I get too carried away with this shit. XD**


	9. Beast Inside There's Nowhere We Can Hide

**Wow. I'm fucking exhausted and school has been kicking my ass. Sorry it took me so damn long to get to this. I'm not gonna try and say it will get better after this, cuz I honest to goodness don't know. -_-"**

**On a brighter note, here are my special people who deserve glomps and digital cookies: MimiKeehl-Jeevas (guest), megan (guest), moonrealm, and DGtnsl.**

**MimiKeehl-Jeevas: Heehee I could probably turn just about any one of these chapters into a long-ass fic, but I won't be taking on any new projects for a while now... I've got this, my other multichapter, an idea for a oneshot, and superfluous requests to continue one of my oneshots. I dunno. I'll keep it in mind, but don't be too excited or anyfin cuz I might forget until after this story is entirely finished and I'm just looking through the reviews with a goofy smile on my face and- "wtf is this? someone saying to continue something? woah. O_O"**

**megan: Imma get right to that! Please start squealing... NOW!**

Dave's POV

I hear the monstrosity chasing me from behind. I skid along the kitchen floor in my socks, desperately trying to control my direction while still maintaining my break neck speed. I can hear it's claws scraping along the wooden floor. A quick glance confirms my fears: it's gaining on me. I go faster, pushing off of counters when neccesary.

I leap into the living room, stumbling somewhat at the difference in flooring. Luckily, the carpet allows for me to control where I'm going better while moving at a faster pace Unluckily, the carpet gives the beast the same advantage.

"You can't run forever, Strider- and you sure as hell can't hide!" it growls from behind. Fuck. It's gaining on me. I should've gotten into track so that I might stand a chance in running away from this fucker. As it is, I can hear it's heavy, even breathing from behind me. I turn to look at the creature once more, but I trip over the rug and go tumbling to the ground.

In less than a second, it's on top of me and has me pinned to the ground, helpless. Mercilessly, he tickles me until I am gasping for breath and begging him to stop between giggles. "Please- please- fuck- stop-"

Reluctantly, my boyfriend, Karkat, relents so that I can actually fucking breathe. "You... You asshole..." I manage after a minute of enjoying the luxury that is oxygen in my lungs.

"What the fuck were you expecting? I mean really- what kind of moronic piece of shit steals another person's cookie and doesn't expect some sort of punishment?"

"Dude, you stole mine last time. I've been planning my totally righteous revenge ever since."

"I have literally no fucks to give about your revenge. _You stole my motherfucking cookie._"

"Oh yeah?" I push him to the ground and sit on top of him so that he can't move. I whisper in his ear. "Do you have any fucks to give about my revenge now?"

He struggles to get out from underneath me and fails. "Gog fucking damn it. Don't you fucking dare!"

"And what if I do?" I lightly run my fore-finger over the pad on the bottom of his left paw.

He squeals a bit in the most adorable way. "Fuck!" He tries once more to kick and flail enough so that he can get away, but I simply move from sitting on his stomach to sitting on his knees. This is much better for tickling anyways. He sits up, trying to push me off to no avail.

He abruptly stops trying to push me away and looks at me with the best pouty face he can manage. "Dave,"

"No," I close my eyes, refusing to fall into this trap again.

"Dave," he wraps his arms around my torso. Damn it. I blindly attack his paw-feet, aiming for the center of the pads.

His shrill laughter pierces the room. He goes back to physically trying to stop me, pulling at my arms. Once he comes to the realization this isn't helping him any, he tickles my sides. Before I know it, he's taken the upper hand again, leaving me breathless and pleading for a truce. "Please, pl-please, K- Karkat! W-We can make more cookies please-please-fuck-please!"

He stops tickling me, him entirely on top of me. The only thing I can move is my head and my fingers, but that's not going to help anything on the account of his feet being well out of my reach.

"I'm gonna need way more than some gogdamned cookies to make up for this hoovebeast shit."

"Anything you want. You got it."

He's quiet, contemplative for a moment. "Anything?"

"Absolutely." I nod, entirely willing to give in to anything to make him stop the torturous tickling.

"What about... A million kisses?"

I grin and awkwardly lift my head up and kiss him on the nose (it's all I can reach from this position). "Only if I can get a million kisses back."

"I think I could work with that," he says, smiling some. He moves so that he's sitting in my lap. He points a finger in my face. "But you're still an asshole."

I sit up and plce my hands on his hips. I kiss him once, then twice. "But I'm your asshole." I grin.

"Yeah, shut up and kiss me again."

So, I did.

**So, this is short and late. But, maybe I'll be able to type another chapter today, so...? Hopefully? Let's see how much shit I can accomplish before my Ma demands I come downstairs, eh?**


	10. No Matter What We Breed

**So. I'm back. Whatcha gonna do 'bout it, bitch? (hopefully nothing. /)-(\ hopefully.)**

**Special people who deserve glomps and digital cookies are Xx-EmO-OuTcAsT-xX and That Dude The Reads.**

Karkat's POV

Dave and I have joked about us having some little shit of our own to watch after ever since we became matesprits two sweeps ago, and, thinking about it, I'm positive Dave mentioned it several times before we were together. But it's only ever been that- a joke. The punchline would always be how shitty we'd be as lusi/parents. After all, between my cussing, Dave's assholery, my assholery, and Dave's cussing, that poor little wriggler would come out as some gogawful mindfuck with the sole purpose of proving how fucking awful Dave and I are at doing anything useful at all.

The problem is... The idea has grown on me a lot over the sweeps. I really want a family. Someday, when I'm an _old_, grumpy asshole, I want to have some grandkids and shit. I want to have a little shit of my own to watch after. I want the chance to become the overprotective bulgelicker of a lusus I had. I want to be that dickwad of a parent who waves goodbye to their kid every day when they're getting on the bus to go to school- even when they're seventeen and demanding independence. I want to be that lusus who makes their ward watch embarassing, gushy movies. I want to be _that parent._

But let's be honest here. All those jokes we've made over the sweeps- none of it was wrong. If we had a little shit of our own to watch after, we'd probably kill it. Or even worse- it'd go exactly the way we always said it would and that kid would come out a mental mindfuck and it would be all my fault.

Arms snake their way around my waist and pick me up ot of my spinny chair. I make my protests very clear to the intruder- Dave, naturally. He sits down in my seat and puts me in his lap in an around his ass, awkward manner. (We're both nine going on ten sweeps old, yet somehow he's maintained that awkward lankiness you expect to see in seven sweep olds.)

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"Who the fuck says anything's wrong? Nothing's wrong."

"You should tell your face that, cuz you looked like you were contemplating the exact uncoolness of your lack of irony- which is pretty fucking bad."

"It's not even that big of a deal."

"What was this small deal about then?"

I open up my grubtop, just so I have an excuse to not look him in the eye. "Just drop it, you insufferable douchebag."

He closes the grubtop. "Come on, Karkat. You look like some fucker just came in and pissed on you parade, taunted you, then shat on your parade. Now what the fuck is it?"

"It's stupid."

"I don't care. It's bothering you, so it's bothering me. Tell me please?"

I groan and bury my face in my hands. I grumble as low as I can.

"What?"

I speak up a tad bit more.

"Don't play games with me."

"I was just thinking about wrigglers, okay? Jegus fuck."

"What about them?"

Hesitantly, I say it. "I want one."

He raises an eyebrow. "Dude, I thought you hated kids because they're all snot-faced little shits."

"They are snot-faced little shits. Just forget about it."

"No. Since when did you of all people want to be a daddy?"

"I don't know? Gog, you're such a pushy dick."

"But you love my dick."

I punch his arm. "Shut the fuck up!"

He laughs. "I don't see why we couldn't."

"Couldn't what?"

"Have a kid."

"Are you out of your gogdamned mind? Our kid would be so fucked up."

"No way, man. Our kid would be the epitome of irony and awesomeness."

"You're full of shit."

"No way. I know we joke a lot about how shitty we'd be as parents, but come on. How bad could we possibly be?"

"Really bad. Really, *really* bad."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Ugh, you're such an ass."

"Thanks, babe."

"Fuck you."

"Not right now- we're having a serious conversation about us as parents."

I face palm. "Come off it. Maybe you'd be a... okay parent- but I definitely wouldn't be."

"What makes you so sure?"

I shrug. "I just am."

"I'm pretty sure too; pretty sure that we're going to get a wriggler."

"What? No, we can't do that."

"We can, and we will. We are gonna have the most awesome family ever. We're gonna take the most obnoxiously stereotypical family pictures. We're gonna be fucking awesome parents- especially you."

"But what if we aren't?"

"But what if we are?" With a kiss, he unofficially wins the argument.

We're going to adopt a grub, and you know what? I'm _so_ going to be that parent.

**This is kind of on the short side, but here it is for you anyways. Take it. Cherish it forever.**


	11. We Still Are Made Of Greed

**It's been about three (four?) months. Here's my official apology for being a piece of shit that took on way too many overly advanced classes.**

**Special people who deserve glomps and digital cookies include: cloud-dancer28, DGtnsl, and Xx-EmO-OuTcAsT-xX.**

Dave's POV

I ride my bike home from school, pedaling as fast as I can uphill. Normally I'd be way more chill on my way back to the apartment, but it's friday, and that means my favorite crab is coming over for a sleepover in a couple of hours. I also know that my room is fucking trashed, and that I need to straighten shit up before he gets there or else his OCD ass is gonna flip out.

I reach the top of the hill and glide down, sighing in relief knowing it's all downhill from here. I screech to a halt in front of my totally sick apartment and carry my bike up the stairs, past the broken elevator. I curse under my breath as I almost drop the piece of shit on the second set of stairs.

Whatever.

I set my bike down next to the door, and hurriedly shuffle through my back pack to find the keys. After a minute of digging around I find it wedged between my gym clothes and a thick stack of unsorted papers. I go through the wiggle and lift routine I always have to do to get the goddamn door to open. I throw my shit on the couch as I walk in, and make a beeline for my room.

As I enter my pig sty of a bedroom, I make up a list of shit I need to do in order to make this a Karkat-friendly enviroment. First thing's first- crank the music up until the entire fucking apartment shakes. That's easy enough. I've got some of my sick beats playing in minutes.

Now for the real work. Ugh. I start off with the ironic tower of Monster cans next to the bed, the small pile of dishes that's been growing throughout the week, and the laundry that's strewn all over the room. I steadily work through all the random crap covering the floor and desk. I put forth some vague attempt to tidy up the disorganized papers on my desk, but that doesn't really work so I just shove them under the bed.

As perfect as clockwork, I hear a loud, impatient thumping from the front door just as I finish up. I open the door to see him holding his fist up, ready to try and knock the door off the hinges again.

"Damn, Karkitty. Just can't wait ten seconds to see this hot shit, eh?" I tease, a smirk in place to make sure he knows it's a joke so he doesn't go and get _too_ riled up over it.

"Shut the fuck up, Strider. You know I only even come to these stupid sleepovers for the pizza." He playfully(?) pushes me to the side and barges in, closing the door behind himself.

"Sure, you do, Kitkat." I turn to lock the door behind him. "You know the drill. Throw your shit where ever." Without even turning around, I already know he's gonna set his bag to the right of the couch, and sit in the seat closest to his bag. I turn from the door to see he has done exactly that. So predictable. I roll my eyes behind my Aviators. What a fucking dork. An adorable dork- but still.

He pulls out his phone, and scrolls through his contacts. "Two large pepperoni pies?"

I snort. "Who even calls a pizza "pie"?"

"Literally everyone in New York, you ignorant douchemuffin."

"But we're not in New York."

"So?"

"So, we're in Texas."

"So?"

"So, you've lived here you're entire fucking life."

"So?"

"So, why the fuck would you talk like a New Yorker if you've never even left Texas? What if, for now on, I talk with a really thick Bostonian accent? How about that?"

"Then, you'd prove exactly how much of a fucking failure you are. You can barely contain your obnoxious accent; how the shit would you talk with an accent that's practically the polar opposite of your nails-on-a-chalkboard voice?"

"By being totally cool and awesome as always." I say with a spectacular imitation of a Bostonian accent.

"Oh my fucking gog. You're such a moronic piece of shit." With that, he turns back to his phone.

When I try to speak again, he stands up and firmly clamps his hand over my mouth, his nails digging into my face a little bit. He raises the phone to his ear, ignoring my existence. Just as I hear the pizza man start to speak, I lick the inside of his hand. He squeals like a little girl and throws the phone half way across the room. He screams a plethora of profanities at me as he stomps over to where his phone landed. Yeah, my neighbors are gonna be bitching about his temper tantrum by tomorow- but it was so worth it.

He redials the number, and orders the pizza. He sends suspicious glances my way the entire time. It takes an unreasonable amount of willpower to maintain my cool kid stoicism.

I let him order the pizza in peace. I take this time to turn on the TV and pick a good movie. I run my finger over the dozens of titles stacked next to the TV. I pick out the best movie we own and hold it up for Karkat to see. He makes a disgusted face. I put it in the DVD player without closing it, knowing that as soon as I leave the room, Karkat will switch it out for something else.

I go into the kitchen to grab some soda and pop some popcorn. I'm guessing from the lack of grouchy half-yelling coming from my living room that Karkat finished ordering pizza. I pour the popcorn into a bowl and take it into the living room along with the soda.

Just as I guessed, the main menu of some cheesy rom-com is on, bringing obnoxious, "romantic" music with it. At this point, I'm used to watching these hour and a half POS's but it's still my job to give Karkles shit about them.

"Wow. You're really gonna waste another one of my friday nights with your godawful taste in movies?"

"Shut up. 50 First Dates is a fucking cinematic masterpiece. You're just too much of an uncultured douchemuffin to get it."

"Whatever, man. If you really wanna melt your mind with this bull shit, then so be it." I unceremoniously collapse onto the couch next to him, shuffling into a semi-comfortable position. "How much time have we got on the pizza?"

"Forty-five minutes _if we're lucky. _Apparently it's a "really busy night"". he says, sounding disgusted with pretty much everything.

"Damn. Guess we may as well just start the torture without the luxury of pizza. Bring on the gushy dialogue and obnoxious jokes."

"Your entire life is an obnoxious joke, Strider."

"Love you too, Karkitty."

"Fuck you." He shoves me away from him.

"Would if I could."

I pop up off the couch to start the movie before he gets the chance to hit me. I press play and turn off the lights before cautiously returning to my seat next to him. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Kakrkat pull his knees up to his chin, and turn his attention to the movie.

Even though I've gotten pretty used to watching these lame ass movies, I've never really taken a liking to them. I wouldn't even let Karkat bring them into la casa de Strider if it weren't for how perfect his responses are. Even if I couldn't hear or see the TV I'd still know exactly what's happening because of this adorable fucker sitting on my couch. When it's one of his favorites, he mouths the words, and shows a range of emotion similar to that of a stereotypical teenage girl. It's so fucking cute.

As of right now, Drew Barrymore has just come to the realization that she has severe brain damage, and that here entire life has been a lie since 2002. Karkat has one of the most extreme looks of anguish on his face that I've ever seen. It makes me wanna just reach over and wrap my arm around his shoulder and hug him, and kis-

Now hold it the fuck up. No. That is literally not even an option. This is Karkat. My best bro. Brother from another mother. Super sweet sidekick. Perfect pal. Compadre. Main man. Best bud. Awesome amigo. _My best friend_. How fucking selfish do you have to be to go macking on literally the number one guy on the planet that you know for sure would definitely not like you like that? Especially when that particular guy who would never even begin to think of you that way is one Karkat Vantas, who considers you to be his best friend, the one guy he could confide in and trust 100% of the time. Out of the fucking question.

I turn my attention from the cute boy next to me to his annoying romcom. I manage to keep my attention on the movie (if you can even call it that). For, like, five minutes. Probably less. Why does he have to have such awful taste in entertainment?

I find myself unwillingly watching him again. His eyebrows are scrunched together with worry. His chestnut eyes may as well be burning holes into the TV screen with the focused glare he's giving it. His lips, slightly chapped from the cold, are forming a solid line of discontent.

It's wrong and so, SO selfish, but I find myself leaning towards Karkat, before I close my eyes with the intention of kissing away that frown. I just don't fucking care anymore. It was bound to happen sooner or later- and I hate waiting.

I see a look of shock and confusion on his face before I close my eyes to enjoy what's probably gonna be my last moment before I get bitchslapped into an alternate universe and alternate me kills me (there can only be one).

But it never comes. Karkat doesn't hit me. He doesn't yell. He doesn't even push me away. After a second of absolute horror of what I've done, he's kissing me back.

In my mind, I'm panicking. _What the actual fuck. He's kissing back? What does this mean? What **are** we? **WHERE THE FUCK DO I PUT MY HANDS?** Fuckingfuckfuckfucketyfuckfuckfuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck._

On the outside, I'm (hopefully) doing a damn great job of kissing my best friend with completely stoic awesomeness like I actually expected him to kiss me back.

**_DING DONG_**

Karkat pulls away, face as red as a firetruck. He opens his mouth as if to say something then shuts it several times in a row.

**_DIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNG DOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNG_**

"I'll get it." he says, still blushing to all hell.

He gets up, glancing over his shoulder at me with the most bewildered expression I've ever seen.

He opens the door to find the pizzaman has arrived. I get up, and look around the corner. The guy looks like he's higher than a kite. He looks right over the much shorter Karkat, staring off into space for a couple of seconds before taking note of the world around him. He looks around the apartment with a glaze-eyed smile, still not noticing Karkat's presence

Karkat looks like he's on the verge of knocking the shit out of the guy. Luckily, the pizza man looks down, and notices Karkles. The guy looks genuinely surprised.

"Whoa," he says, blinking rapidly as if he couldn't fathom Karkat's existance. "Hey there, lil motherfucker."

Karkat looks like he's about to boil over from hatred, but the guy doesn't seem to notice at all. He looks over at me, than the romcom that's been playing all along. A sudden look of realization comes across his face.

"Ohhhh!" he laughs. "Sorry, if I'm interrupting anything."

Karkat immediately protests, his face bright red once more. I can't seem to find it in me to argue, since he kind'a _was_ interrupting... something. I'm not so sure what that something is yet. I'm pretty sure it's good. If anything, it comes to show that sometimes it's okay to be selfish. How else would I have gotten "something"?

**You should all give a very big thank you to Lucylyles, cuz I saw in my email that she followed me, and I was like ":O that story, bruh. i gotta whip somethin up for 'em" So, yeah. Don't y'all EVER let me forget about y'all for that long again! Pester me. Send me a kwakabazillion messages demanding I update the story. Don't be shy. Scream profanities at me if neccesary (or unneccesary. is all good). **


	12. This Is My Kingdom Come

**Let's do a semi-not-really-quick update to begin to make up for spending months not updating this shit.**

**This one's gonna have an interesting AU. humanstuck It'll be pretty easy to follow though. **

My name is Karkat Vantas, and I am the youngest prince of Prospit, a bright, lavish kingdom. I've lived my entire life with nobles and aristocrats alike hovering over me, deciding my every move. I have six older siblings (three sisters, three brothers) and all of them have done great things with their lives. But me? No. I'm not even allowed to leave the castle!

All because I have some kind of rare blood disease. Honestly, I've never been entirely clear on what exactly it does internally (and I'm pretty sure the royal doctors don't know much better than I do). All I know for certain about it is that I am beyond fucking tired of all the tests and medications that never help a god damn thing.

I just can't fucking take this bull shit anymore. So I'm leaving. Running away. It's not like past me has ever actually been anything more than a worthless, sickly piece of shit just sitting around waiting to fucking die anyways. But that's going to change. I don't know where I'm going or what I'm going to do, but the point is that future me will be doing something. I mean, I'm gonna die alone either way. I may as well at least try to do something with my life.

They didn't think I'd hear, but I heard the doctors talking to my dad. Saying I probably wouldn't even make it till winter. I'd always done what I was told, blindly trusting that these fuckers could actually do something- but now I know. I have to get out of here.

. . .

For hours, I've laid in bed, pretending to sleep soundly, so that I'll be left alone long enough to escape. Nonetheless, I'm checked on regularly until about three in the morning. That only gives me a few hours to travel by foot out of the kingdom without getting caught before the sun rises. This should be tons of fun.

I swiftly grab my knapsack, and go to the window, bringing the rope of blankets I had made with me. I tie one end to a piece of furniture and let it dangle out of the open window. It just barely reaches the ground. Taking a deep breath, I step out of the window and begin to climb down. Luckily, it's strong enough to hold me, and I make it down without breaking any bones.

I pull my hood over my head and rush away from the castle. Though my main objective is to get out as quickly as possible, I'm still cautious enough to keep an eye out for any criminals that could be out and about at this hour.

Luckily, I see no one. Not so luckily, I had to stop quite a few times to rest because of my illness, so dawn is breaking, and I've only just made it out of town. Peasants are starting to come out of their homes, and I'm still out in the open. Fuck!

Not knowing what else to do, I run into the forest as fast as my already tired feet can take me. When I'm certain I can't be seen, I come to a halt, lungs heaving from the abnormal amount of exercise. A wave of vertigo comes over me, forcing me to sit down. I put my back against a tree for a while, just focusing on breathing and rediscovering the difference between up and down.

After several minutes, my thoughts are clear enough for me to consider my situation... I'm not actually sure how to proceed with this shit. I had really banked on being able to leave quicker than that, thus getting out of the kingdom. But now? It has to be at least seven, and there's not a doubt in my mind that they've noticed my disappearing act. So scratch out walking through the village- I'd be caught and taken back to the castle for sure. Going back is obviously not an option. I guess I'll just have to try walking through the forest.

Fucking joy. I'm going to get devoured by wolves rather than die of a blood disease. Maybe, they'll take one bite of me, decide my blood tastes bad, and leave me alone. But if each and every one of them takes a bite before realizing I taste bad... I'd better get going.

Cautiously, I push myself to my feet and make my way deeper into the dense, dark forest. Within fifteen minutes of beginning my trek, I'm already pretty sure I've got blisters on the bottoms of my feet and I'm starting to feel kind'a lightheaded.

Nonetheless, I trek forward. I have to at least find shelter before stopping. So I walk and walk and walk and walk until I'm absolutely certain that past me was being a fucking moron for even thinking I could do this. God damn it I'm so lost. At this point, I'm so deep in the forest that I wouldn't know where to begin with getting out.

I stop, unable to continue. I lean up against a mossy tree. I yelp, falling backwards. A sharp pain hits the nape of my neck when I hit the ground. I sit up bewildered and pissed off. Stupid fucking nature.

I rub my neck, and look around. I fell... Through the tree? I climb to my feet, nearly tripping over the same fucking rock I fell on. I'm in a grove of some sort. Moss and vines are covering everything. Gnarly tree roots stick up out of the ground like out reached hands hoping to drag me below. The grass is grown above my waist, nearing my shoulders. The perfect place for a game of hide and seek. The center of it all is an enormous stone tower. It is just as covered with moss as everything else. Craning my neck upwards, I see that a ring of fog surrounds it, putting the highest point out of sight from my vantage. All in all, the place looks completely untouched.

I circle the base of the tower looking for a door, but find none. Frowning, I circle it again to find the same results. There has to be a way in. Could there be a secret entrance? I go around once more much more slowly, searching and exploring every single crack and imperfection. I claw at one crack; nothing. I push at a place where the wall appears to be crumbling; nothing.

Frustrated, I kick the tower, immediately regretting the throbbing pain in my foot. I growl out curses at the damned thing- and then stop when I realize the stones are moving. I further examine the door before proceeding inside. I had kicked in a slightly off-colored stone.

I step inside the ancient structure to find the dull gray stone continues to the inside. A spiral staircase goes up, up, and up all the way to a ceiling where a wooden panel resides. Ugh. I was looking for a place to rest, not this shit. I climb up the plethora of stairs, grumbling complaints as I go. Why must there be so many motherfucking stairs? This is literally the shittiest most dysfunctional design I've ever seen.

Once I reach the last stair, I push up on the panel, and climb up into a large loft. The walls have beautiful murals of flowers, stars, and people painted over the otherwise unadorned stones. An aclove takes up a decent portion of the far wall. It has one large floor-to-ceiling window with a bench. Next to the aclove is an empty bookcase, and (fuck yes) an enormous, plush, canopy bed.

I walk over to the pink bed and plop down. I've never been so happy to see a bed in my entire life. I quickly fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

. . .

I awake to a steady thumping noise. Wearily, I lay in the bed, listening. The thump continues, merely growing louder. Damn it. Could it be the owner of this tower? I quickly sit up with that thought- and immediately become dizzy. I lay back down, the world spinning before my eyes. I shut them, but that simply worsens the feeling of motion. I reopen them. I try to sit up again. I'm somewhat more successful this time. I remain upright...

Never mind. I lean over the side of the bed and hurl. What a lovely way to wake up. Having gotten over my nausea, I sit back up and ever so carefully step over the mixture of blood and mostly digested food.

I walk to the window to see what the noise is. Outside is literally a knight in shining fucking armor. The knight has a purple plume so I know they're not from Prospit.

I lean out the window, watching to see what they'll do. For the next twenty minutes, they examine the base of the tower. Ha. Fucking moron. After another five minutes, I lose interest in the idiot trying to get in.

I look further into the loft to find a small bathroom and a kitchen. Nothing too special or fancy. I take a rag from underneath the sink to clean up the mess I made. Disgusting. I throw the rag into the bathroom trash.

Aimlessly, I wander around the loft. I find moldy bread, several warped pots and pans, a handful of lost, dirty paintbrushes, two hair brushes (still filled with ridiculously long blonde hair), and 792 multi-colored bobby pins. Other than that and the ornate furniture, the place is empty- as if it were abandoned.

The scraping noise of metal against rock sounds through the tower. I fling myself at the window with the intentions of calling out this fucker from Who-The-Fuck-Cares-Ville on being a piece of shit. I lean dangerously far out of the window.

The knight has now got his sword, a really shitty looking sword at that, jammed between the stones.

"Hey! Fucktard!" I yell. Can he even see me?

He looks around- left, right, behind. When he doesn't see the source of the hullabaloo (yours truly), he cautiously goes back to what he was doing. He gives his sword a swift tug, but it doesn't budge. I rest my head on my hand. This should be a riot. Sadly, his helmet is still on, covering his face. (I've decided it has to be a man or else they woud've been smart enough to not stick their sword into a motherfucking stone tower.)

I return my thoughts to the presence. The knight is now attempting to stand on top of the sword. Who the fuck even does that? I lean further out the window to get a better view of this moron.

He reaches up as high as he can, then jumps, desperately trying to cling to the sides of the tower. Of course, he fails miserably. He slides down, wrapping his arms around the tower. His legs don't even make it halfway around the base. I find myself snorting with laughter despite myself. He wildly looks in all directions- except up. This guy.

He desperately scrambles up, hardly maintaining his current altitude much less gaining any. He's coming dangerously close to sitting on the sharp side of his sword. I suddenly find myself wondering if his armor protects his crotch. Judging off of his silent, but no less desperate struggle, I would guess it doesn't.

I sigh. Clearly, this moron is either gonna figure out how to get in or he's gonna die trying. I may as well just let him in. I grab a blanket from the bed and wrap it around my shoulders; it's kind of cold outside. I nearly trip on it going down the millions of stairs, but whatever. The warmth is well worth the near-death experience.

I open the secret door (it has a much more convenient knob on the inside), and step outside. The fellow looks even more ridiculous from this angle, arms and legs spread wide, metal encased fingers attempting to claw into the stone. I creep up behind him, snickering under my breath. This is too fucking easy.

I snarl out in the deepest, most menacing voice I can manage, "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

He squeals out in the most high-pitched, girly voice I've ever heard. He jumps off the building, swirling to face me. He fumbles to pull his sword from his sheath only to remember it's still stuck in the side of the tower. This is too fucking much! I laugh whole heartedly, something I hadn't done in quite some time.

Once he realizes his mistake, he snaps into a salute, then bows. "Shit. M'lady. My bad I totally did not see ya there. You were like-"

"Wait one fucking minute." I interrupt. "M'lady? Do you have any idea who you're talking to, you ignorant douche muffin?"

He stares at me, or at least it seems like he does. He removes his helmet to reveal a head of perfectly manicured, platinum blonde hair and an oversized pair of glasses. His porcelain-like skin is littered with countless freckles. He doesn't actually look like he could be much older than me, if at all. He's got a somewhat boyish face, without the slightest hint of a beard or mustache and his legs and arms are disproportionately long. Basically, he's six feet of damn good looking.

I force myself to frown. Can't be letting this guy imagine that I could have an inkling of anything other disgust and hatred for him. He called me _his lady. _Hell. Fucking. No.

He looks me over for just a bit longer than I had sized him up.

"I s'pose you're not the princess." I have to strain to make out what he's saying because of the thickness of his accent.

"Do I look like a princess to you?" I ask. Does this guy have eyes behind those lame ass glasses or is he blind?

He looks me over once more for all of two seconds. "Well, you're wearin' a pretty girly outfit, and you've got a hot pink blanket with butterflies wrapped 'round your shoulders. Not to mention, you've got really thick eyelashes, like you're wearin' make up or some shit. Can't imagine why the fuck you'd bother wearing make up if you live out in the middle a nowhere, but you know whatever floats your boat. And really it's for the best that your boat floats cuz we're goin' on a boat. By the way, in case you hadn't figured it out, I'm rescuin' you, and taking you back to my place. It'll be sweet as fuck. We can feast on apple juice and Doritos on our way there. Maybe we could even throw some down for the sharks."

Once he's finally said all he wanted to say, I jump in. "Okay. First of all, fuck you. I am not a girl. Honestly, are you blind or are those stupid glasses melting into your eye sockets? Clearly, I'm a guy, and my clothes are not even slightly girly. I'm not even wearing any motherfucking make up. For that matter, I don't even have any. There's nothing abnormal about my eyelashes, you moronic piece of shit. I don't even like apple juice, and I definitely don't like sharks, so you best just pack up your tin foil stick [I gesture towards his sword] and go back to where you came from."

"Ouch. Low blow, babe. This here is the best shitty sword you've ever seen. [He gestures towards his sword] I've been through thick and thin with Irony. I can hardly even imagine not liking apple juice of all the glorious liquids in the world, but I guess we could get you something different along the way to the ship. I'll introduce you to the sharks. You'll like 'em by the end of the trip."

"No. You're not fucking getting it. I'm not your princess. I'm not your 'babe', I don't give a fuck about your feast, and I sure as hell am not going ANYWHERE with you. Just leave me the fuck alone!"

"If you're not the princess, then what are you doin' hangin' 'round here?"

For a moment, I consider telling him. I could really use someone to talk to. Then again, even though he's not a Prospit knight, he could still decide to return me to the castle. You never know with strangers. Best to play it safe.

"None of your business."

He doesn't say anything for a bit, and God is it confusing as fuck. Because of his glasses, you really can't tell jack shit about what's on his mind until he spews it out. It makes me want to rip them right off his face.

"How long have you been here?" He inquires at length.

"Still none of your goddamn business." I cross my arms, and shift my weight to one leg, quickly losing my patience.

"Why are you here?" He asks without hesitation.

"Why are _you_ here?"

"I was sent on a quest to save some nameless princess at this tower. Now that I know she ain't here, I don't really know."

I roll my eyes. "Then why don't you just go back?"

He frowns for half a second before returning to a neutral expression. "I've been exiled. Bringing her back was supposed to prove my loyalty or some stupid shit like that. So There isn't really anywhere to go back to."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

We both stand without really knowing what to say. In the awkward silence, my conscience starts to gnaw at the edges of my mind. He's gonna be all on his own in a land he's not familiar with. He probably doesn't have any Prospitian currency so he won't even be able to buy himself food. Hell, with how thick this forest is, he might not ever even make it out alive.

I sigh and carefully examine my nails, picking out the dirt. "Well, obviously, I don't actually own this shithole, but do you want to come in or whatever?"

He looks... relieved? I still can't really tell with those fucking sunglasses.

"That'd be sweet." He starts for the door, then stops and turns back to look at me. "So... What's your name, princess?"

Reaching the top of the staircase, I turn around and give him the best evil glare I can. "Karkat, and I'm a prince, not a fucking princess."

He raises a brow. "Seriously?"

"Yeah," I cross my arms. "So what ?"

"Like the prince of Prospit?"

"Obviously."

He scrutinizes me, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "You're lyin'. The youngest prince o' Prospit's s'pposed t'be 'round my age."

I scowl. "What the fuck do you mean by that, punk?"

"That you're short as fuck." A mischievous grin splits over his face.

"I am not! You're just freakishly tall, dickhead."

"Kitkat, you're, like, less than five feet tall."

"I'm 5'2". Don't make me change my mind about letting your dumb ass in."

"Just admit it: you totally dig my 'dumb ass'." His grin grows wider.

I sputter, my face lighting up with embarrassment. I search for some kind of comeback, but can't really think of a decent one. I throw a measly "fuck you" behind me before storming inside. I hear his laughter from behind me, despite his attempts to contain it. I go up through the trap door, and slam it back into place.

Muffled by the wood, I hear his half-hearted pleas, crippled by his stupid laughter. "Aw, come on. Don't be like that."

He starts to push up on the trap door, but I sit down on it, cross-legged. "Go fuck a cactus."

He pushes up on the door, lightly several times, pushing me an inch or so upwards. "Stop that!"

I cling to the handle, feeling as though I'm going to fall off. With one last push, I'm going way higher than an inch. I carefully look over the edge of the slate of wood to see that the cocky asshole is holding me up on one hand like a waiter carrying a platter.

"Put me the fuck down!" I yell right in his face.

The POS doesn't even flinch. "Nah," He lowers the door, picking me off,with one hand, and discarding it with the other. "I'd rather carry you. Honestly, you're so fuckin' light. It's like carryin' a kitten."

I cling to his neck for fear of him dropping me. "I hate you so fucking much right now."

"You're too fuckin' adorable."

"I am not." I pout. "Put me down."

"Hmm... Nah." He then starts to explore the loft, still refusing to put me down. He peers into the mostly empty kitchen. "How long have you been here?"

"I don't know. A few hours?"

"So, you don't actually live here or anythin'?"

"I might. I don't really know what I'm doing yet." I glare at him suspicion starting to creep in. "What's it to ya?"

"Well, I'm guessing you've run away for whatever reason. So, you probably ain't goin' back to the palace. Obviously I ain't goin' back to Derse. So. I was just thinkin'. I mean if you want to that is, um-"

"What?" I ask, confused.

"We could take off. I've got a boat, and we don't have to go to Derse or anythin'. We could go anywhere we wanna go. It'd be fuckin' awesome." He says, seemingly envisioning it in his mind. He comes out of his daydream, and clears his throat. "O' course, you don't gotta do nuthin', but..." He puts me down on my feet and shrugs. "If you wanna."

"And how the fuck do I know you're not just gonna drag my ass back to the palace?" I question.

"I won't. Pinky promise." The much taller boy daintily sticks out his pinky.

I squint my eyes at him, as if that'd make it easier to see if he's lying. Of course that doesn't help at all.

"Take off those fucking glasses. I can't tell if you're telling the truth or not with the craptastic plastic in the way."

"Yeah, no. Imma keep 'em on."

"Then I'm not going with you." I turn around arms crossed. I start counting in my head: One... Two... Thr-

"A'ight," I spin around to face him, maybe a bit too proud of myself. He shifts from one foot to the other. "Just don't be an ass 'bout it, 'kay?"

"Okay,"

"Pinky promise?"

"God, what the fuck is it with you and pinky promises? How old are you? Three?"

"Whatever, man. I could totally go on a badass trip 'round the world without you. I hear the clouds in Skai are gorgeous. Maybe I'll go check that out first... Yeah, then I'll go to Alternia. Man, I've got a bitch tits friend over there, Terezi. I could take her instead o' you." And with that he turns to stride confidently out the door.

I don't know what it is that possesses me, but I feel I can't just let him leave. Maybe it's the desire to do something with my supposedly short life, maybe it's curiosity about the world outside Prospit. Maybe it's just jealousy over this Terezi character, though why I'd be jealous of her is hard to pinpoint. It's not like I have a claim to this knight. Hell, now that I think about it, I never even asked what his name was. But in a sense I want to have a claim over him. Ugh that sounds so fucking pathetic. Whatever. I guess it doesn't really matter why.

Regardless of the reason, I grab his hand, vaguely panicked at the thought of him leaving me alone. "Wait!" He turns around, a clearly expectant look on his halfway covered face. "Pinky promise." I say, holding up my pinky.

He silently stares me down (God, I fucking hate it when he does that) as if waiting for something.

Whatever it is he was expecting must never come, because he gingerly removes the glasses from his face as if they're something precious. Though he's taken off the shades, his eyes are still closed.

I frown. "Come on," I poke him in the tum. "I don't bite. Just open your goddamn eyes."

And he does. Bright Crimson eyes stare down at me shyly. It's like there's rubies embedded into his skull. Why the fuck would you cover something as beautiful as that up?

I must have voiced my opinion aloud without meaning to because he's got the strangest expression I've ever seen (It feels like I could see straight through his eyes to his soul with the glasses gone). He seems to be caught somewhere between confusion and disbelief.

"You are talkin' to me... Right?"

It suddenly hits me over the head how stupid it was to say something like that. You don't just say shit like that to people! Nonetheless, it's too late to go back on it now. Besides, it's true anyways.

So, I try to just shrug it off for minimal embarrassment. "Yeah, so you promise then?"

Confusion. Processing. Realization. I can see it all on his face as if he said it aloud. "Oh. Yeah. Pinky promise. I ain't turnin' you in to your old man."

"Then I guess I could go with your dumb ass... Assuming you haven't changed your mind and decided to pick up this Terezi chick."

"Nah, I was just messin' witcha. I ain't seen Terezi since I was seven, and i di'n't even like 'er."

"Oh. Okay." It's completely unjustified, but I'm more than relieved. "Hey, what's your name, asshole?"

"Sir David Elizabeth Strider, but you can just call me Dave."

"Okay then," A suppressed smile starts to bubble up. "Lizzie."

He rolls his eyes. "Wow. What an original comedian. Someone get this guy a motherfuckin' mic, cuz he's goin' places."

"Thank you, thank you." I take a mock bow.

He rolls his eyes once more before going to put the glasses back on.

"Hey, wait." I say. He glances up, and gives me a questioning look. "You should keep the glasses off. Your eyes really are fucking pretty."

He just stares at me, but now I know what's going on his mind when he does that: everything. Confusion. Recognition. Suspicion. Processing. Worry. Denial. Uncertainty. Before, I had hated not knowing where his head was. Now, it feels as though I'm intruding by being here. With that thought I decide to step out of the room. Right as I'm about to step down onto the staircase, I see him pocket his glasses.

He turns to me, and playfully asks. "Now, where the fuck are you goin'?"

"I'm going to Skai. You coming, Dave, or are you gonna stand there and gape at the wall all day?"

"Oh? Do you suddenly have the capability to find my boat and sail her across the sea without me and whatever you've got in your bag there?" He gestures to the knapsack I had abandoned at the foot of the bed hours before.

Before I can even move to retrieve it, he's thrown it over his shoulder. "A'ight. Le's go."

"I can carry my own damn bag" I say as he approaches.

"Oh, really? Funny cuz I can carry your own damn bag as well."

"Dumbass." I step down, and descend the plethora of steps, knowing I wouldn't win this argument whether I tried or not. He's only a couple steps behind me. Once we reach the bottom, he trails around to the back of the tower where his horse is tied to a large, gnarled root.

He unties the horse, and introduces him to me as Sassacre. After greeting him, Dave helps me up onto him, attaches my small bag to the saddle, and climbs on himself.

"Hold on," he says. I link my arms around his waist, and we're off to our first adventure.

My name is Karkat Vantas. I still have a rare blood disease, and I'm still not sure where exactly I'm going to end up or what I'm going to do when I get there, but at least I know I'll have a boy with ruby red eyes to keep me company, wherever we go, whatever we do.

**I think I said this would be a somewhat quick update at the top? Obviously that didn't happen. But I also didn't expect this to turn into a five thousand word one shot, so *shrug* Karkalicious769 is my special person who deserves many glomps and digital cookies.**


	13. When You Feel My Heat

**All right. Let's see if I could maybe get the rate of chapters uploaded back to what it was in the summer, eh? I'm sittin in math class typing this shit. Hopefully, Mrs. Teach won't tell me to put this away.**

Dave's POV

I'm on my way home from work. I'm sitting in the front seat of my old as fuck pick-up truck, freezing my ass off. Even though this piece of shit car has been slowly falling apart over the past year, I was not expecting the goddamn heater to break in the midst of winter. I don't even have more than a light jacket to keep me warm.

Looking out the window, I see children in enormous marshmallow-looking coats running around in the snow, building snowmen and snow forts, and other such winter activities. Fuck those little kids with their huge coats. They're right in the midst of the snow, but they're still probably way warmer than me, and having a lot more fun too!

I slam my fist down on the dash with the hopes that it could help, like banging on the side of an old TV. A little sputter comes from the ancient vents, but it quickly dies down into nothing, leaving me just as cold as before. I bite back the urge to scream at the damn thing; cool guys don't get their panties in a twist over anything, much less some dumbass truck.

Luckily, the drive home isn't too terribly long. I'm pulling into the small parking lot of the apartments within fifteen minutes. I park in my normal spot, four spots away from the door. I grab my ironic purse from the passenger seat, and swing the door open. As I step out of the truck, I blow on my hands and rub them together. Of course, my hands have practically become icicles, so it doesn't help much.

I hurry inside the building. Looking around, something seems... Off. I'm not sure what it could be. Hm. After standing at the base of the stairs for a few minutes and not getting it, I figure it must be my imagination. I ascend to the second level, shuffling through my bag to find the key as I go. I unlock and enter the apartment.

I flip the light switch on as I pass, but nothing happens. Frowning, I turn around to the switch. I flip it off, then back on again. Still nothing. I walk into the kitchen with the intention of trying the light in there. Mayhaps the light bulb is out in the living room. I flick the switch, but still nothing.

Oh, shit. I go around the apartment frantically turning everything on. Shit. Shit. Shit. Nothing's turning on. That means... I walk over to the thermostat, dread filling the pit of my stomach. Oh, fuck. The screen is blank. There's no goddamned heat.

I'm actually going to die. I imagine my boyfriend walking in to find my dead body covered with frost. Man, if he cries over his dumbass romcoms, he'd be balling if he found my cadaver. Wait... My boyfriend. My boyfriend the warmblooded troll who emits enough body heat to make a camel die of a heat stroke.

I allow a microscopic grin to appear on my face as I devise my scheme to leech his warmth. I look at the battery-run clock hanging on the wall; it'll be another hour or so until he get's home. Another hour of freezing cold.

I trail into the bedroom, shivering. If I'm going to be waiting an entire sixty minutes in the cold and dark all by myself, you'd better believe I'm going to steal one of my boyfriend's sweaters. I put the oversized article on, feeling like a moron when it goes inches past my fingertips and nearly reaches my knees. How the fuck does such a small guy where such big sweaters? Whatever. It's soft and cozy, and that's what's important!

Enough with the distractions. It's time to get down to business. I remove all but the fitted sheet from our bed and take them into the living room. I throw them all down onto the ground. I move onto the closet, emptying it of any spare sheets or blankets. I toss those into the pile as well. I take all the pillows from the couch as well as the one throw blanket and put them in the pile.

I crack my knuckles like the badass motherfucker I am. It's time to put my plan into action.

. . .

Before long, I'm beaming down on my brilliant handiwork: a super ultra pillow fort that is taking up most of the living room. I watch my plan unfold in my mind. Karkat won't be able to resist the beauteous structure. He'll climb inside to enjoy the complete awesomeness of it, but he won't know that I lie in wait just out of his line of sight to ambush him. What will follow is far too graphic to clearly imagine.

I get down on my hands and knees, and enter the fortress. I cover myself with a blanket to: 1) Keep me warm 2) Camoflauge me. I poke my head out and glance at the clock. Ten more minutes. I can't wait.

. . .

I look at the clock. It's been twelve minutes. I feel like I'm dying from the inside, out.

Where is he?

. . .

It's been five minutes since he'd normally be home.

I've resigned myself to my imminent death. Maybe whenever Karkat gets home, he'll see me in here and think I'm asleep. Maybe he'll tuck me in and give me a peck on the cheek. But I'll be dead. Maybe I should write a note saying that I've died of toofuckingcolditis so that he doesn't kiss a corpse. But maybe if he kisses my dead body I'll come back to life all Sleeping Beauty style. And then I'll end up being zombie Sleeping Beauty and bite my boyfriend's face off. I don't want to bite my boyfriend's face off. Fuck I'm scared. I don't wanna be zombie Aurora. Kitkat, come home now!

. . .

After the longest three minutes of my life, I hear the door slam open. I make sure I'm fully covered by the blanket.

"Gog, traffic is such a bi-" His voice suddenly breaks off. He's silent but not for long. "Dave?" He shouts.

I hold my breath to keep him from hearing me. My excitement from earlier returns. It takes all my willpower to not jump out at him and chase him down right now. But no. Patience is key, and I need the key to open the door to brilliant troll warmth.

I hear him throw his keys onto the couch and walk towards the fort. I can see his feet in front of the entrance. I hear him take a deep breath, as if he's searching for patience he's never had to begin with.

"Strider, what the fuck are you doing?" I remain silent. "I know you're in there, you insufferable prick. Come out. Now." Still, I keep quiet. I hear him let out a groan of frustration. "Are you seriously gonna make me go in there?"

Though I can't see him, I'd be shocked if he hasn't got his arms crossed while rolling his eyes at me. He takes off his shoes, grumbling a few choice words under his breath as he does so. He crawls in, not seeing me.

"Dave?" He questions, sounding genuinely confused for the first time throughout the entire ordeal.

I stay completely still. Just a little closer... He comes in completely, closing the door-flap behind him. He's looking around, innocent of the havoc about to be wreaked on him. This is my chance!

With a battle cry, I tackle him to the ground, and shove my freezing cold hands up the back of his sweater. He shrieks like a little girl, and I don't blame him a single bit. He's so fucking warm! I put my hands as flat down onto his back as possible trying to warm every single crevice of my hands at once.

Having gotten over the initial shock, he starts spewing curses that would make a sailor beet red. He scrambles to plow through the closed door-flap, but I pull him back towards me, holding him in a tight vice-like grip. He's still kicking his feet, making this a bit more difficult than I'd like, so I wrap my legs around him, efficiently pinning his legs down. He's trapped with no escape and he knows it just as well as I do, but the tenacious lil fucker still wriggles around some, whimpering from the chill of my bare skin.

As my hands warm up, his struggles dissolve into nothing more than a mumbled cuss word here and there and shifting to find a more comfortable position. As he stops struggling I loosen my hold on him some, figuring that he's not gonna try anything.

By the time I'm all warm and thawed out, I'm not pinning him so much as cuddling with him. I've got my arms loosely wrapped around his waist, and my legs are tangled with his rather than pinning them down. This is even better than I had hoped for. Looking at his relaxed, closed-eyes expression, he's not even mad at me! But just in case...

I kiss my adorable boy friend's shoulder. "Hey, Karkat?"

He opens one eye. "What is it, you cold, soggy chicken nugget?"

I kiss him on the cheek. "You know I love you, right?"

He huffs. "Yeah, I love you too." I internally celebrate. Complete victo- "But you're still a bulge licking piece of shit for shoving your ice cube hands up my shirt."

I make a mock upset face. "But I thought you liked it when I lick your bulge." I see his face turn a few shades darker in the dim light. "But I guess if you really want me to, I'll never do it again."

He shoves his face into my chest, efficiently hiding his candy red blush. "Shut up! You know that's not what I fucking meant."

I smirk. "Oh, so you _do_ like it when I-"

He promptly interrupts. "Yes, I fucking do. Now shut your goddamned trap before I do it for you."

I kiss him on the top of the head, and hold him close. "Only if it means you stick around, babe."

"I said shut up." He snuggles up against me.

Complete victory.

**Aw yis. I'm in a writing type of mood, and I can afford to shit around in near all the classes I got today. If everything goes to plan, Imma be blowin through chapters like you wouldn't believe. Hopefully. Wish me the good luck required to keep the teachers off a me while I'm typin this shit.**

**Oh, I almost forgot to mention my special motherfuckers. Mimi-Keehl Jeevas, my favoritest guest. Kurohana806. Yami Ryo. All a y'all are beautiful mofos who deserve tons of glomps and digital cookies.**

**Mimi-Keehl Jeevas: Sweeet. Thank you for forgiving my extended absence, senpai. And there's more fluff a coming your way to keep ya feelin good. :o)**


	14. Look Into My Eyes

**YOOOOOOOOOOO Let's keep this shit movin! I'll put special people at the bottom again, assuming I get any.**

**Humanstuck... Go!**

Karkat's POV

I wake up to the obnoxious screech of my alarm clock. I burrow my head underneath my pillow and pull my blanket up over that.

"Noooooooooooooooooooo" I groan. I cannot fucking do this shit today. I think I'm just gonna stay in bed so long as my dad doesn't-

I hear my door open. Fuck. I make sure I'm completely covered with my blanket. Maybe he won't see me, and he'll think I'm not-

"Young man, you may be small, but you're not so small that I don't see you curled up underneath the covers." I hear him half shout to be heard over my alarm, which is still screaming at me. Fucking kill me.

He must have shut the obnoxious contraption off, because the beeping comes to an abrupt end. I sigh in relief and relax into the mattress. Maybe he'll let me go back to-

"Come now, Karkat. You must get up and prepare yourself for school. After all, today is a rather important day considering it's your first day of school in our new town." I lay still and hope he'll leave.

He doesn't. He prods my side lightly. "I know you're nervous, but I assure you it will be better here. Now come on. You're going to be late." Nope. I'm not gonna be late. I'm gonna be absent. I try to fall asleep, despite my father's nagging presence.

"Do I need to tickle you out of bed?" My eyes shoot open. "I'll do it. You know I will."

I turn my head to see his hands are in tickle formation. I miraculously gain the motivation to get out of bed and get ready.

I see him smile. "Good boy." Then he starts to leave the room.

"Go fuck yourself" I yell after him. I may be up, but that doesn't mean I'm in a good mood.

I trudge over to one of many boxes lined against the far wall of my new bedroom. I go through two boxes only finding books and movies. Mostly romances. Not that anyone needs to know that. In the third box, I find jeans and jackets. An improvement, but where are my tops? I shuffle through several more boxes, finding bathroom supplies, posters, my piercings, and old notebooks for note-taking and drawing.

God, I hate moving. It takes forever to get unpacked, and by the time I finally finish and everything has its place, it's time to do it all over again. This is the seventh time we've moved in the past five years. I'm just so fucking tired of it.

I sigh and look at the clock. I've got about half an hour left to get my shit together. All righty then I seriously need to figure out where my shirts are. I open another box. This one has a bunch of miscellaneous crap, most notably my charcoal. Fuck yes. I put the charcoal on top of the notebooks to make it easier to get my backpack together.

Luckily, the next box has my tops, long and short sleeved. I glance at my scarred arms. The thin, pink lines seem to stand out just as much as if I'd scribbled on myself with black sharpie. I grab an oversized long sleeve, despite the blistering heat. You'd never guess it's late September here in Texas.

I put on the shirt along with some old, ripped jeans. I put my piercings into the bathroom supplies box, and poke my head out the doorway of my room. Where's the bathroom in this house? There's only two other doors in the hallway. I try the closest one to me, cradling the box in one arm. Nope, that's dad's room. I move to the other door and stroll in, closing the door behind me.

I stand in front of the mirror and scowl at my reflection. Bloodred eyes scowl right back at me. My black hair is sticking up in every single impossible way possible. I look closer. Shit, my roots are starting to show through. I pull a sharpie out of the box and color over the bit of white hair that's starting to show, hearing one of the assholes from my old school calling me a freak in my head.

I pull out more things from the box, not bothering to organize it right now. Piercings, a toothbrush and toothpaste, and colored contacts all find their way onto the vanity. First, I put in the pretty blue contacts. I can't stand having my ugly ass eyes staring back at me. It's unnerving. I put in my snake bites, not in the mood to put the rest of them in. I brush my teeth, then go back to my room to pack my bag.

I take my worn, black backpack from the box of miscellaneous shit. I throw in two notebooks, my charcoal, and a few pens. I pocket my phone and new house key, and voilà I'm ready for my first day in Derse High.

. . .

I stand in front of the dark, looming building. I can tell just by looking at this shithole that it probably has a million stairs, and that I'm going to step on every single one at least twice every time I look for my next class. Have I mentioned that I hate moving?

I walk into the building. Luckily, the front office is actually in the fucking front at this school. I step in to be greeted by an over-caffeinated middle-aged woman.

"Hello, sweetie! What can I help you with?"

"I'm new here. I'm assuming I get a schedule here?"

"Hmm... Let me see..." She clicks away on the computer. "Would your name be..." She squints her eyes at the screen. "Korkot Vontos?"

"Karkat." I say with a steely voice. "Karkat. Vantas." I don't have the patience for this shit.

"Oh!" She laughs. "My bad, darling. Here let me print you a copy of your schedule." She looks back at the computer. The sound of a really old printer suddenly erupts through the otherwise silent room. "You just go on ahead and take a seat while that prints out and I call your guide to the office."

"What exactly do you mean by 'guide'?" I cross my arms.

"Here at Derse High School, we assign a student to guide around any new students, that way they don't get lost as much. And really with a school like this you need all the help you can get! I've worked here for fifteen years, and I still got lost sometimes!" She laughs. She picks up the phone, and dials in a number.

Ugh. Getting forced into interacting with other assholes this early on. Fucking great. I slump over to the waiting room styled chairs, and sit down. This is going to be a _long_ day.

. . .

Before too long, a pretty damn tall guy (a senior maybe?) strolls into the office with bulky headphones around his neck. He's pale as a ghost- no, as pale as ME. He's got platinum blonde hair that he must have spent forever styling and stupidly big shades that appear to be completely opaque. Who the fuck even wears sunglasses inside? All in all, he looks like a goddamn douchebag.

"Sup," he states rather than asks.

My first instinct is to just tell him off. He hasn't said a single damn thing to make me mad, but he just comes off as being a dick. I'm about to do so, when I remember the way too happy lady sitting at the office desk. I bite my tongue for now and settle for shrugging. I don't wanna get in trouble on the very first day- my dad's lecture wouldn't be worth it.

"Lemme take a look at your schedule so we can figure this shit out." Oh wow. He has a really thick accent. I've heard some really weird accents, but I think I'm officially going to label Texan as the weirdest.

He puts his hand out expectantly. I give him the schedule. He plops down into the chair next to me and, supposedly, looks at the paper. I can't tell for sure because of the atypical indoor shades.

"Awesomesauce," he says. "We have a bunch of the same classes. Yep, this is pretty damn do-able."

God, that fucking accent is cringeworthy. "That's not even a fucking word." I haven't even gotten to my first class yet, and this guy is plucking my nerves.

"It is now." he stands up. "Now, come on or else Mrs. Serket will lecture us for hours."

"Mrs. Serket can go fuck herself." I grumble as I stand.

"But she ain't gonna. Now come on, squirt." The ghost of a smirk appears on his face.

"Don't call me that, shitlord. I am a perfectly average size for a junior. It's not my fault that you are stupidly enormous." I fume at him as we walk out of the office.

"Hey, man, you should really pull the green envy bug out of your ass. I know you wanna be enormous to so you'd stand a chance with getting the ladies, but it just ain't gonna happen, squirt."

I open my mouth to yell at him, then stop and think about that he just said. Oh. OH. HE MEANS-

I try to push the slight blush coming up away. I scowl at him. "My name isn't fucking squirt. It's Karkat."

"Okay. It's nice to meet you, beep beep meow. I'm Dave." Maybe it _would_ be worth my dad's nagging to punch this guy square in the balls...

"Karkat." I say again, taking a deep breath in an attempt to not lose my temper with this insufferable prick.

"Karkitty."

"Karkat."

"Kitkat."

"Karkat."

"Karkles."

"Karkat."

"Karkitten."

"Karkat."

"KK"

"Karkat."

"Karbro."

Suddenly, I'm remembering a lanky guy, a senior that I met half a year ago. He'd always call me that: Karbro. He always seemed like such a happy, chill guy; it didn't even occur to me that there could be anything wrong. Not with him. He was probably the best friend I ever had, and I totally fucked it up. I was particularly mean to him one day; I had had a bad day, gotten my ass kicked by some dickwads. I just didn't feel like "dealing" with him. I was so fucking stupid. I came to his house the next day and found him dead.

He committed suicide.

"Shut up," I say, internally cursing the tremble in my voice. "Shut the fuck up, and leave me alone." With that, I turn and run. I've got no idea where I'm going, but I'm going somewhere this guy isn't. I can't, no won't, have another Gamze. I see him, lain in the bathroom with the medicine cabinet open and nearly empty of any medication.

I open a door to find a stair well. I go in and slam it shut. I fumble to lock it, but I'd need a key. I sit under the stairs with my knees pulled up to my chin, hoping Gamz- Dave won't find me. I just see him, I'm not sure which of them anymore, and the hurt look on his face from some bull shit _I_ said. I try not to, I really do, but I cry like a fucking baby.

If he were here, he'd probably pull me into his lap and give me a hug, saying its okay and that the world was a motherfucking miraculous place with nothing to be this upset over. I should've been as good to him as he was to me. He deserved a much better friend than me. Someone who didn't come with so much baggage. Someone who's kind. Someone who actually acted like they cared. Not me. Someone way better.

I hear the door to the stairwell open. I try to stifle my crying. Please, just don't let him see me. _Please_. I close my eyes, entertaining the foolish fantasy that you can't be seen if you can't see.

"Karkat?" He questions in a soft voice. I hear him cautiously walk over to me.

I open one eye to see him crouched down, peering in at me. I burrow my head down into my lap. "Go away,"

He's silent for a few moments. Then I hear him shuffle closer until he's right next to me. He doesn't say anything. _Please just go away_.

He doesn't. He sits right next to me and wraps an arm around me, rubbing my back. I choke back my tears. I don't want to cry in front of anybody, especially not Ga- Dave.

After a while, he speaks again. "You all right?"

"Great," I say without lifting my head. "You can leave now. Go to class so Miss What's Her Face doesn't get pissy with you."

"Nah, the bell already rang. It'd be better to just skip. You're new, and I'm your guide, so we shouldn't get in too much trouble." He says it so matter-of-factly. It makes it easy to imagine him skipping whether he has a decent excuse or not.

"No call home or any shit like that?" I question, suspicious of the scenario that sounds too good to be true.

"Nope. I was called down to the office to be your guide. If we don't show, she'll probably assume I was showing you around the school or some shit along those lines, and count us both as present and on time. She's pretty cool like that, despite the lectures."

"No hallway patrols?"

"Do you really think they could get one person who actually gives a fuck on every single hall in a school this big?"

"Well big schools tends to have a shit ton more people than small schools, so why the fuck not?"

"It might be a big school, but it's still a shitty, big school. Most of the students and a decent portion of the teachers just don't give a fuck." He shrugs.

I lift my head and rub at my eyes, dry from crying. "Okay then."

I crawl out of the confined space, self-conscious because of the blonde crawling out behind me. I stand up, and feel something a bit wet on my hand. I start to wipe it off onto the floor before even looking at it. Then I do look. Fear clenches in the pit of my stomach. It's one of my contacts.

I carefully step over it with the intentions of somehow turning around and picking it up discreetly. But Dave steps out and onto the contact as he comes to his full height. _Fuuuuuuuuuck. Why me? Why now?_

I start to panic some. What the fuck else does one do when one of the few things keeping them from being publicly humiliated is destroyed?

I guess Dave must notice my upset, because he bends down to put his hands on his knees. "Hey, what's..." He trails off.

I close my eyes excepting and dreading my definite fate. The only major question here is if he's the type to knock the shit out of me and call it a day or the type to go more with a verbal/rumor-spreading attack. He's so much bigger than me that it's not too hard to imagine him leaving me bruised and battered at best. On the other hand, he did prove in the hallways that he's more than capable of twisting words. Fuck. It doesn't matter which way this goes; it's gonna be bad.

I hear a bunch of noise coming from his general direction so I open my eyes. Maybe it's better to know what's gonna happen ahead of time. Wait, could he be pulling out a knife or some shit? And if no one hear cares that much the way he said... I turn around, planning on racing up the stairs. I don't wanna die on the first day of school.

There's a door leading to the next landing. I try to open it- locked. I turn back to Dave to see that he's blocking the door out and there's no stairs going down. I'm 100% fucked, aren't I?

At long last he pulls something out of his bag. It's... a case for glasses? He opens it up, and pulls out a silver version of the glasses he's wearing.

"So," he says. "I'm gonna guess that you we're tryna hide the whole red eyes thing. Contacts?"

Cautiously, I nod my head. "One of them fell out."

"Yeah, contacts are pretty lame. There always doin' shut like that: fallin out and rippin and whatever other crap they wanna do." He holds the extra pair out to me, being careful to not touch the lenses. "Here." He extends them further towards me.

I just blink at him. Why the fuck is he being so nice to me? Is this some kind of trick?

"Don't make a big deal out of it, just take 'em." He reaches up and takes off his shades, continuing to speak casually. "I know it sucks walking around with red eyes with nothing to cover them up. Even if no one's paying any attention to you, you just get all self-conscience about that shit."

But I'm not too worried about what he's saying anymore; I'm too busy looking at the only other red-eyed person I've ever seen. What the shit. What the fucking shit. What the ever loving fucking shit. My eyes make me look like someone stabbed me in the face, but his eyes? They look like fire, with a strangely beautiful illusion of movement behind his pupils.

I take the glasses from his outstretched hand and tentatively place them on the bridge of my nose. Luckily the opaque appearance from the outside doesn't continue to the inside, like a two-way mirror.

"Thanks." I say, feeling like that doesn't come close to covering it.

"No problem." He says. "Just return 'em whenever, or not. They're only like two bucks at the gas station, so it doesn't really matter to me."

"Nice." I nod. "And none of the teachers mind the sunglasses inside?"

He slips his shades back on. "What did I tell ya? They don't give a fuck. Just stay out of fights and don't skip too much, and you'll be fine."

"I thought you said this was a shitty school?" I ask jokingly.

He shrugs, a slight smirk ghosting across his face. "So, we've got about..." He pauses for a few short seconds. "Fifty-five minutes until the bell rings again. How about I actually show you around some now so it's not as confusing later on when the halls are filled with people?"

"Sure," I assent.

"Alrighty then. First stop: Mrs. Serket's room." And we're off.

Maybe, things will be better here after all.

**Bluh. I hate school. I ended up with a way bigger workload yesterday than I expected. Luckily, last block today was Bestsellers and we don't actually have to do anything in there, so plenty of time to finish the chapter. :,)**

**Imma wait til next chapter to do special people.**


	15. It's Where My Demons Hide

**Sorry bout not posting special people in last chapter. I wanted to have it posted before leaving the wonder that is school wifi behind. Also, sorry bout any spelling/grammar mistakes in the last chapter; spell check was being a dick and making shit harder than it had to be. Now then, special people! Guest and Mimi-Keehl Jeevas deserve glomps and digital cookies.**

**Guest: I'm glad you found it to be sad; that means I'm doing my job well. And of course, my job is to rip out your heart and devour it.**

**Mimi-Keehl Jeevas: Thank you very much! *u* And you most certainly are worthy of the senpai title! You're the one person who almost always reviews this shit and it makes me all giggly inside whenever I see you've reviewed. I 3 Mimi-Senpai~!**

**On to the story (Humanstuck, cuz I feel like it)! cx**

Dave's POV

"One!" My husband of ten years, Karkat Strider, calls out menacingly.

"Two!" Our kids, a four year old girl, Rori, and a six year old boy, Kamryn, go running, giggling with glee.

"Three!" Kamryn runs to hide behind the couch.

"Four!" Rori follows him, a wide smile on her face from suppresing her laughter.

"Five!" Kamryn ushers her away in an attempt to save himself.

"Six!" Rori pouts and refuses to move, causing her older brother a great deal of distress.

"Seven!" He tries to help her find a good hiding spot.

"Eight!" Rori hides in a coat closet, as per his recommendation.

"Nine!" Kamryn rushes back to his own hiding spot, crouching out of sight.

"Ten! Ready or not, here I come!" Karkat turns away from the wall where he was counting with a broad smile upon his face.

"Hmmm... Where could those rascals possibly be?" He takes a few steps forward with a nonchalant air about him. "Could they be..." He quickly goes down on his hands and knees, looking under the table. "Here?"

A few giggles can be heard from the coat closet. The door is slightly ajar.

"No?" He gets up and stomps towards the closet door. He loudly sniffs the air. "Fe, fi, fo, fum! I smell the blood of a giggly girl!"

Kamryn jumps out from his hiding space. He blows rasberries and makes faces at Karkat. "Come and get me, butthead!" he yells, and runs towards the front door, which they had determined was base before starting the game.

Karkat gives chase, pretending to be a monster. His roars only encourage Kamryn to pick up the speed. Karkat reaches out to snatch him up, but Kamryn makes it to base just on time, out of breath from his short-lived sprint. He proceeds to taunt Karkat, always careful to keep one hand on the door.

While Karkat is distracted, Rori cautiously steps away from her hiding spot. She kneels next to the TV stand, a mere two meters away from her goal: base. She peeks behind the TV at the duo arguing in front of her target. Kamryn spots her immediately. She gives him a pleading puppy dog face. Kamryn gives an exaggerated groan of boredom. He slides down to sit on the welcome mat, still maintaining contact with base.

"Daddy, I'm boooooooored with this game. Can you just go get her already? You're not even s'posed to guard base." He crosses his arms in a vaguely pouty manner.

Karkat scratches his chin as if he's debating it. "I don't know..."

Kamryn groans again, even more dramatically. He slides down so he's halfway between lying down and sitting against the door. "Come oooooooon! She's in the closet, just go get her!"

"All right, but you'd better quit that whiny shit or else I'm not going to let you go over to Casey's house to play anymore. Got it?"

Kamryn roles his eyes. "Fine."

Karkat had been turning to leave, but he turns towards him again upon hearing that. "Excuse you?"

Kamryn sits up a bit under his father's watchful eye. "Yes, sir."

"Better." Karkat turns and walks right past Rori, who's crouched down, partially behind the TV stand.

By Kamryn's silent urging, she creeps towards base. She sits down next to her brother just as Karkat opens the closet door. The kids giggle and laugh at their dad's immediate confusion. He looks up at the sudden eruption of noise. I chuckle along with the kids. The look on his face (somewhere between amusement and frustration) reminds me of a time we played when we were younger...

_It was in the eighth grade. __I was Mr. Popular. "The Co__ol Kid". More often than not, I was surrounded by other kids my age. Between the sweet shades, the sick raps, and my individuality, they thought I was awesome, no better than awesome. Perfect._

_But they weren't really my friends. I wasn't so stupid as to believe they were. They were fake, and I never really cared for any of them. I think that was part of why they liked me: I didn't pretend I gave a fuck if I didn't._

_Everyday, when recess came around, I'd sit on a bench by myself and get a breath of fresh air. Everyone knew better than to bug me during recess. Well, I thought they did anyways._

_On the third of April, a short, ginger boy approached me. He had hundreds of reddish-brown freckles covering his cheeks, ears, nose, and chin. A deep scowl took residence on his face._

_"Hey," he'd shouted at me, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else in the world. "You're always sitting by yourself out here. Do you wanna come join our game of hide and seek or some shit?"_

_I rolled my eyes. Who even was this dumbass (probably a snotty little sixth grader thinking he's tough shit) to bug me? "Clearly, you don't know who I am. I'm-" _

_"I know who you are, you insufferable prick. But **clearly **it doesn't matter who you are because you're still sitting there by yourself looking like a goddamned tool with none of your 'friends' around to give a fuck."_

_I opened my mouth, grasping for a comeback, but he plowed on. "You can join the game between rounds if you want or you can sit here all alone, feeling sorry for your pathetic ass. I really don't give a fuck." And with that he stormed off, leaving my head spinning._

_I hadn't been feeling sorry for myself at all before, but once he left I sure as hell was. Never before had I been so ashamed of myself. Still, I sat there exactly the way he'd described with such disdain._

_..._

_The next day, when recess rolled around I started to walk toward my usual spot. Out of the corner of my eye, I recognized the freckle-faced kid from before. I stopped in my tracks, to the annoyance of the people who were walking behind me. He was with a group of kids, demanding everyone pay attention to him. He was trying to get everyone in a circle so they could do bubblegum._

_I ran over to them, dodging and ducking between the people scattered around the blacktop. They were just about to start when I shoved my foot between freckle-face's and a cute, cat-like girl's_

_He looked up in surprise at my sudden appearance, but almost immediately shrugged it off and continued with Bubblegum. No one seemed to especially care about my presence. I had never felt more at home amongst my peers._

_Freckle-face ended up being it. He leaned up against a tree with his eyes shut and began to count. We all ran off, in pairs or alone, to find a hiding spot. I ran around the mostly unfamiliar terrain. There was a swing set, a basketball hoop, a spot for Four Square, several picnic tables, and more than enough trees. I climbed up one of the trees closest to base, in the hopes of jumping from one treetop to another to reach base, an old, knobby tree not too terribly far from the building._

_"Ten!" Freckle-face shouted. He spun around, a look of determination on his face. I watched from above as he ran off with a war cry. Once he was a considerable distance away, I inched forward towards the edge of a more sturdy branch. The closest branch on the closest tree was only a foot or two away. _

_One... Two... Three! I jumped into the next tree. The new branch wasn't as strong as the previous one. It swayed and creaked haphazardly beneath me. I moved in, closer to the trunk where it was stronger. I circled around to a branch right next to my goal: base._

_Before jumping, I looked down to the main action of the game. Freckle-face was chasing after cat girl- closing in on her too. Then a fairly muscular, dark-skinned boy rushed in, swooped that cat girl right off her feet, and beat feet. She squealed and fought until she realized who it was; I guess they were friends or something because a grin broke over her face once she recognized him. _

_She climbed onto muscles's shoulders and waved at freckle-face as they left him in the dirt. He sprinted after them, hollering about how this was an interference to the game and calling muscles some rather unsavory names. __Two girls were already sitting at base, cheering on the duo._

_Looking around, I spot a really tall, lanky boy with wild hair that had been around for Bubblegum. He must have either forgotten or stopped caring about the game, because he was sitting on the lap of a paraplegic. Poor kid. He was beet red because of the giant lazily taking residence of his lap. The giant was pointing up at the clouds with a certain carefree attitude that I had only seen in Bro's friends. They had all been high or drunk- sometimes both._

_I laughed at the shenanigans taking place below. Never before had I met such a dorky group. __I turned my thoughts back to my current predicament: getting to base before freckle-face noticed me. I cautiously released my hold of the trunk, twisting my feet towards my destination. _

_The branch was shaky. If I had any sense, I would've turned back around, climbed down the tree, and made a run for it that way. But I hadn't been blessed (or perhaps cursed) with common sense, so I edged closer to base and prepared to jump._

_I was never very good at math, never fully grasped the idea of trajectory and any of the shit amongst those lines that would've methodically proven I was being a moron in every way possible by doing this. I peered out at the branch I was planning to jump to. It was about a yard and a half away. I decided that, yeah, I could totally make that jump. __I leaped towards the branch, feeling like I was flying for a split second. If only I had a cape..._

_And then any heroic sensation I had had previously quickly dissipated as I missed the branch, slipped, and plummeted towards the ground, being slapped by branches from both the tree I jumped from and the one I was jumping to. _

_Suddenly, my tumble came to an abrupt stop, even reversing for a moment before I hung in place just above the ground. My shirt had caught on a branch of the tree I was jumping to. I could see my shades below me, cracked beyond any reasonable repair._

_Seemingly everyone was looking at me, surprised by the sudden outburst. My "friends" must not have recognized me in such a disastrous state, because they all turned back to their own games and conversations, ignoring the weird guy hanging from an old, knobby tree._

_In less than a minute, there were only a handful of people still looking at me with expressions ranging from concern to pure delight. But best of all was the shocked gape on freckle-face's face. A sort of giddy feeling bubbled up inside of me until I was not just a __weird guy hanging from an old, knobby tree, but a crazy-looking __weird guy hanging from an old, knobby tree. One by one, each and every person in our game of hide and seek was laughing, even freckle-face, who seemed to have a stick permanently implanted up his ass._

_Once he had recovered from his fit of laughter, freckle-face came over to me and tapped my nose. "You're it." he said._

_I smiled. "Nope. You said this here senior tree is base, and I'm definitely touching it." __His previously triumphant expression faded into one that was somewhere between amusement and frustration._

"Aren't you going to join us for our next round of hide and seek?" a voice asks, bringing me out of my reminiscent reverie.

From my spot on the couch, I look up at a ginger man with hundreds of reddish-brown freckles covering his cheeks, ears, nose, and chin. A teasing grin has taken residence of his face.

I smile. "Of course, Karkat."

I never did sit on the bench during a game of hide and seek. Not since the third of April.


	16. Don't Get Too Close

**Sup. So I've been tossing around several ideas for this chapter. I've hopefully chosen the best of three. **

**And I've decided to just make it a permanent thing to put special people at the end so that I don't have to come back and edit my first author's note because it feels like lying to do that.**

Karkat's POV

It's the least wonderful time of the year, Christmas. Between the icy roads, the ditsy vacationers, and the obnoxiously bright, blinding Christmas lights, driving is a living horror terror. I swear to gog if I hear one more motherfucking carol from a group of shit-faced, middle-aged adults trying to act like they're two sweeps old with all of their mirthful Christmas cheer, I'm going to fucking lose it. The enormous pressure to get fabulous gifts for all of your friends, family, family's friends, friend's families, coworkers, classmates, and everyone else you've ever met in your entire life (even that distant second cousin thrice removed that lives in Idaho that no one's even sure is still alive) is absolutely despicable.

But the worst part, by every stretch of the imagination, is the holiday-themed parties bound to follow. Every year, Jade organizes a super cheesy, flamboyant Christmas party. She invites seemingly everyone in Washington to come eat, drink, and recall tales from years past when things were just as uncomfortably crowded and boring.

There are certain things that can be expected every year such as the gigantic pine tree taking residence of the living room, the overly cheesy Christmas decorations covering everything, and, possibly the only good thing about the entire ordeal, the inconceivably large quantities of food overflowing from every flat (and not so flat) surface in the house.

One of the more... inconvenient of these Christmas "traditions" is one specifically belonging to one Dave Strider. Every year, he wears this indescribably crazy hat. Colored red, green, gold, and silver, it has many bells of all shapes and sizes that jingle with the wearer's every move. From the very top, a bendy, plastic wire sticks out. At the end of the wire is fresh mistletoe.

Every year, he receives at least a quick, annoyed peck on the cheek from each and every person at the party (or at least, that's what he says). He even drags his twin brother, Dirk, into the affair, going so far as dipping him while passionatley frenching him in the name of irony.

He catches everyone- everyone except me that is. I do my best to avoid him come Christmas time, and he always tries to seek me out. I've had some pretty narrow escapes, but I've always made it out un-kissed.

At a later date when he's discarded the hat, he always questions me on why I was so desperate to avoid a little kiss. I generally tell him that I was avoiding his man-slut lips or the putrid stench I claim is in the air around him.

I generally lie.

The truth is that's I've had a more than inconvenient crush on the irony-loving, stoic, bulge-licking son of a bitch for sweeps. I never really know how to act around him. I'm terrified of seeming too nice or overly friendly towards him, so I do my best to distance myself from him.

I have no desire to be one of the pathetic pissbabies in one of my romcoms. I'm not going to be so foolish to think that I could maintain a healthy friendship (much less platonically kiss!) the guy I like. I'd rather have him hate me.

Which leaves me where I am now: sulking over a glass of... I don't even know anymore. It's some type of alcohol. It's not really keeping my mind off of things as well as I had hoped, rather it's taken away my capability of thinking of it on a rational level. So I'm just sitting in a fold-out chair. In the corner. By myself. Feeling like a piece of crap. Hating every stupid decision I've ever made. Hating the most likely equally moronic, if a bit more arrogant, asshole I'm bound to be in the future.

But more than anything else- hating Dave fucking Strider. In my half-drunken state, it seems clear to me that he's the root of all my problems. If it weren't for him, surely I wouldn't hate Christmas half as much as I do. Him and his stupid hat. Stupid mistletoe.

I hiccup. Looking down into my solo cup, I realize my drink is gone. Again. I sigh and stumble to my feet to get another glass of whatever the hell it is. Honestly, I have no plans contrary to drinking myself into a self-loathing, comatose state. If it weren't for the alcohol, I may have just decided to face Harley's wrath and stay at home. What difference would it really have made if I had stayed at home? Not much. The only difference is that I would have been in a self-loathing, non-comatose state.

I waver upon my feet, the world seeming to shift beneath me. Warm, sturdy hands hold me up. I open my eyes that I hadn't realized had been closed to begin with, and there's Dave Strider. Right in front of me. Wearing that piece of shit mistletoe hat. His lips are moving... I think? I'm not so sure of anything right now.

Then, there's his warm hands, the only definite thing, gently pushing me back into my seat. Wait... No, I don't want him to touch me, not even gently- no, especially not gently! I attempt to communicate such sentiments verbally, but I guess he doesn't listen, because he's still. Fucking. Touching. Me. I try to swing my fist at him, but he catches it.

Everything around me is going too fast and the noise from the party is making my head throb. I just can't do this. Everything is just too much. It's all just too fucking much. I start sobbing uncontrollably.

Warm hands are lifting me back out of the seat, then pulling me back down. I'm enveloped in warmth, Dave Strider's warmth. I try to explain everything to him: how sorry I am for always being such a dick to him, how I really do like him, how he shouldn't have to deal with my bullshit, even going so far as suggesting he help me commit suicide. He pets my hair and shooshes me while I'm trying to tell him. I doubt he's listened at all. I _need_ him to listen.

I sit up and crash my lips down on his. If he won't listen, he'll just have to feel it. Surely, if he just knew how I felt, this would all be better. He doesn't even have to kiss me back or like me or anything. Hell, he could completely despise me, and that would be just fine. I just need him to know.

He pushes me away, still just as gently as before, with a deep frown. He talks again. I make out bits and pieces... Something about alcohol... Remember... Advantage... Hard... Love... Shit... Drunken... Hate... Please... Sleep...

Is he talking about me? I curl back up in his lap, shoving my face into his chest. I inform him that he's being dumb. I'm not even drunk. I just love him a lot is all. I never even meant it when I said I hated him. That was a lie. Just a bunch of lies...

I nuzzle up against him, enjoying the feel of his warmth. So warm and cozy... I feel myself drifting off to sleep...

;-;

I awake in a dimly lit room in a large, heavenly bed. Even the limited light coming in between the curtains is enough to send a sharp pain through my temple. Fucking hell. I shut my eyes tightly and lay immobile, unable to drift back into the bliss that is unconsciousness.

I hear some type of movement from my feet. The sound reverberates in my skull, making me feel nauseous. I pull the pillow over my head. Someone shoot me. The sound moves to my side. More sound- too much sound. I pull the pillow tighter down around me in an attempt to further muffle the noise.

I feel a light touch on my shoulder. Who even is that? Am I still at Jade's place?

The noise seems to have stopped, so I cautiously lift up the pillow some. I'm immediately blinded by the light. Once my eyes adjust, I see that it's... Dave? What the actual fuck?

"Hey," he says in a quiet, rumbling voice.

You know what? Never mind I don't care. Fuck it. I pull the pillow back down over my head and mumble "Shove a dildo up your ass."

Through the pillow, I hear him speak. "There's some painkillers and water on the bedside table, m'kay?"

I grunt an acknowledgement. Anything to make him leave. Gog, I must look like absolute shit. I sure feel like it.

He takes his hand from my shoulder. I hear him leave, closing the somewhat squeaky door as quietly as he could. Once he's left the room, I let out a frustrated groan into the mattress. Maybe if I just close my eyes, I'll wake up and this will have just been a shitty dream.

;-;

I awake, still in a dimly lit room, still in a large, heavenly bed. Sigh. I crack open an eye, expecting the blinding pain from earlier to return. I wince. My head is still throbbing. I still kind of feel like puking. But it's manageable.

I sit up, my head spinning. I spot painkillers on a nearby table with a glass of water and thank any gods: existing or not. I clumsily pour out a couple and down them. Wait... Was that two or three? Whatever. I won't die from a one pill overdose. I silently apologize to my liver.

In the hopes of figuring out where I am, I examine the room and its contents. It's a fairly large room with bright red walls. Enormous windows covered with thick, black curtains cover the far wall. It's furnished almost entirely in black with bits of silver here and there.

The wall opposite of the window has a large bookcase, though there's definitely no books there. Instead, it's filled with a wide variety of whole and partial carcasses. There are skulls of different shapes and sizes right next to an equally large variety of feathers. Assumably dead bugs are incased in a picture frame. Several species of flowers are pressed and preserved in another frame.

Photographs of people I know and don't know are pinned up on clothes lines going this way and that across the room. Upon further examination, I realize that my face is immortalized up there several times right alongside some of my closest friends and family.

Movie posters cover the two shorter walls. The films are mostly action oriented with a white guy with a tough exterior and an equally tough interior. All of these movies have one much more important thing in common.

Each and every one of them was produced by Dave Strider.

Oh, fuck. Fucking fuckfuckfuckfckfuckfuckfuckFUCK! This is Dave's place. Why? WHY? Of all the places in the entire world, why am I waking up hung over as fuck HERE? Why even would he take me home with him? My mind immediately starts going down into the gutter. There's no way. No fucking way. He wouldn't. Dear lord please say he wouldn't.

I stand, the blood rushing to my head. Nothing feels... Sore. A quick glance towards the door- closed. I click the lamp on the bedside table on to its brightest setting despite the pounding in my head. I strip, checking myself for any love bites. None. I sigh in relief and put my clothes back on.

Still... Why his house? It's not like we're friends or anything. Why would he even care? I was drunk, so what? Harley and I go back since we were kids, and he knows it. There's no reason I can even begin to fathom for him to take me with him.

For that matter, it would have made a world more sense to leave me at Harley's. My car is over there. For that matter, I visit her often enough that I have spare clothes in her bottom drawer. She's dealt with the emotionally challenging fucktard I am when I'm drunk; she probably could've handled the situation infinitely better than whatever Dave did.

I decide that, despite my wishes to disappear into nothing or maybe sleep forever, speaking with him is inevitable. I may as well march out there right now and demand to know what's going on immediately. Yeah, that's what I'll do.

I attempt to smooth out the wrinkles in my slept-in clothes to no avail. I sigh, then step out of the bedroom into a short hallway. Clothes pins filled with photographs are hung flush against the walls. I see six more pictures of myself in the mix. How in the world did he catch me smiling in his presence so many times?

Shaking my head, I mosey on into the kitchen. Though nothing looks outdated, I have no doubt that the dumbass doesn't actually cook much of anything in here. He probably doesn't even have food in the fridge other than leftovers from eating out.

I walk into the living room, not wasting much time in the mostly unused kitchen. A black leather couch is placed perfectly in front of a flat screen TV- probably has surround sound. Behind the TV are ginormous curtain-clad windows. The clothes lines return in this room. There are some against the walls, like in the hall, however there are just as many, if not more, of the lines growing across the room at every which nonsensical angle.

Still no Dave. I go back to the hall to see if a crack of light could be coming out from beneath any of the three doors. There'o not. Frowning, I go back into the living room. Is even home?

I look out the window, squinting my eyes at the piercing light. Once I can see, I realize that it's a balcony, not a window. Dave is talking on the phone out there with the most serious demeanor I've ever seen him have. He's pacing and moving his hands in large moments. A business call perhaps?

I turn to put the curtain back and let him finish his business call in peace. As I'm leaving, he sees me and stops in his tracks. Curiously enough, he says a few quick words into the phone before hanging up without waiting for a reply. He pockets the device before pulling the French doors open.

He stands in the doorway with a twinge of emotion I can't seem to recognize in his usually stoic features. Fear...? I couldn't imagine why. No, it must be something else.

"So," he starts uncertainly. He stays silent for a few long seconds Before settling on something to say. "How are you feeling?"

"Like shit. Why the fuck am I here?" I quip, no patience for whatever hoovebeast shit he had planned to use to sidestep actual important things.

He clears his throat. I see that emotion, growing in the stiff way he's holding himself, like an ancient man trying to stand against the wind. Is it just simple discomfort at having a man who's clearly stated hatred towards him in his living room? I narrow my eyes. No... No, it's not that. He's never been anything less than completely chill in my presence before, even when I was yelling in his face. Still, no answer from the self-proclaimed omni-chill, omni-awesome guy.

"Well?" I cross my arms. My head is pounding and my stomach is churning. I just want to be at home or maybe even in one of the many guest bedroom's of Jade's large house. For that matter, if I could be pretty much anywhere on the entire gogdamn planet that isn't next to Dave fucking Strider, I would be grateful.

"W-well." He stutters, a deep southern accent coming out in his normally monotonous voice. "You were drunk as fuck last night."

"And? How is that at all any of your concern?" I prompt him. Has the meowbeast abducted his tongue? He seems... Skittish maybe?

"I just thought, well Harley's got plenty to do so far as cleaning goes at her place, I figured I'd make sure you were good so she could deal with that." He nods afterwards, as if agreeing with himself.

"She's more than capable of working on her house while I'm in a guest bedroom out of the way. Besides, she has that dog trained to do anything and everything. She could probably make the dog clean the house."

I stare him down. There's that anonymous emotion creeping up on his face again. Could it be a hint of desperation?

"Come on. Just fucking say whatever the hell it is and get it over with."

He shifts from one foot to the other, still silent. "Is it really all that important?"

"Yes." I glance at him all tense and scared-looking. Sighing, I continue. "I'm not gonna be mad about whatever it is. Promise."

At long last, I recognize that slowly growing thing within him that I couldn't seem to place: hope. It's budding up from within him in a way so obvious, it's physically tangible.

He clears his throat. "Last night. What do you remember about last night?"

I feel dread fill the pit of my stomach. Oh, fuck. What did I do? I search my mind, but come up with only dead end thoughts. The only certain thing I remember beyond drinking a ton is warmth. I try to remember details, but accomplish nothing other than making the pounding in my head worse.

"Not much... I don't know. I drank too much." I say lamely.

"Well... Let me remind you." He steps closer to me.

At 6'3", he towers over me, making me feel very small. He lifts his hand up to my chin slowly, as if afraid of scaring me away. He gently holds my face, lifting it up towards him He slowly bends over, gauging my reaction. I'm frozen. Slowly, he presses his chapped lips against my own. It's sweet and short, yet still lingering enough to take away my breath.

He pulls away, dropping his hand back to his side. He runs a hand through his hair, tugging slightly. "Shit. Sorry. Honestly, it was stupid to think some bull shit you said while you were drunk would actually mean anything. Fuck, I-"

"Wait," I say, raising my hand up. My mind just isn't processing anything in this semi-hazy, pain-filled state. "What happened when I was drunk?"

"Well, you started off throwing punches, but somehow you ended up in my lap saying you love me and kissing me." His mouth momentarily twitches up in amusement. "It was actually kind of terrifying... I wanted to be around you when you woke up, so I could figure out if you actually meant it or what."

Now, it's my turn to fall silent, fear clenching in my stomach. What if he kissed me just to mess with me? This could all just be some dumb joke to him. But... What if he's not just playing stupid head games?

"Well?" He asks. "Were you?"

I consider my options, mortified and elated by the possibilities all at the same time. I take a deep breath then speak in as even a tone as I can manage. "Yes, but does that make a difference for you?"

"Yes," he says cautiously.

"How much of a difference does that make for you exactly?" I ask, equally cautious.

He shrugs. "Enough."

"But how much? Enough to want to go out with me or enough that you're going to avoid me or... What?"

"Enough that I'd really like to give this a try... And get another kiss maybe. Or two. Or maybe just a lot of kisses."

I inch my way a bit closer to him. "I thought you said my kisses were terrifying."

He bends over, putting our faces mere inches away. "Well, that was when you were drunk and I was scared to death that it was just the liquor talking."

"But my kisses are okay now?" I stand on my tiptoes, supporting myself on him.

"Well, let's find out." He kisses me again, just as sweetly as before, but this time I'm kissing him back, my arms wrapped around his warmth. It feels as though I could stay just like this forever.

He pulls back from the kiss, placing his forehead against mine. "Perfect. Except for one little thing..."

I frown. "What?"

"I don't have enough of them."

"That could be remedied." I give him a quick peck on the lips. "Just stick around and you'll get so many gogdamn kisses."

"I wouldn't have it any other way." he says, a genuine smile appearing on his face.

What had I been thinking- spending so long trying to stay away from this?

**Special person: kurohana806.**

**kurohana806: Thank. cx**


	17. It's Dark Inside

**So. Previously, I typed up half a chapter for this shit, and would've gotten this in sooner... But then I came to the abrupt realization that it was a stupid idea to begin with and poorly executed at that. So here's this instead of that.**

Karkat's POV

I trail up to my room after dinner to avoid my dad's lectures. I've been getting C's in school lately and, according to him, it's from lack of effort. So, as punishment, I've been sentenced to studying every day after dinner until eleven, when I'm expected to be in bed.

I reluctantly grab my backpack from the foot of the bed as I pass. As I begin to remove its contents, I hear a slight scrape against the house. I pause to listen. When the sound doesn't repeat itself, I decide it must have been the wind.

I pull my history text book out, deciding that if my asshole dad was going to have me study for hours on end that I would at least read up on one of the more enjoyable subjects. I'll get to math later. Like when I'm six feet under.

_Screech _

That fucking noise- what the shit is that? I spin around, searching for the source.

_**Screech**_

It's coming from the window! I stomp over there, ready to land my fist on whatever animal's face is there. I throw open the window just as the screech begins again...

Only to find my moron of a boyfriend, Dave Strider, precariously perched on a branch directly outside my window. He's holding a stick in his hand, out reached towards my window to make the obnoxious noise once more.

I angrily whisper, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Savin' the princess from her tower as per norm." he quipped, a smirk upon his acne-ridden face. "Sorry: I couldn't find any pebbles to throw at your window since you got mulch in your flower bed." He held a a hand out to help me into the tree.

"I'm gonna get caught, and my dad will never let me hear the end of it." I say, sighing.

Yet I'm already stepping onto the ledge of the window, reaching out for his calloused hand. Before I can even make it all the way out the window, Dave sweeps me up in his arms. My breath catches in my throat. I fear my surely inevitable death by falling. Except I don't fall. He dosn't visibly struggle under my weight at all.

I huff, trying to play off how tightly I'm clinging to him. "Yeah, yeah, you're Mr. Strong Knight. Now put me the fuck down before I pull a knife on you and your stupid pantaloons and cape."

"Dude, don't diss the imaginary cape. Maybe you don't understand these things quite as well as a Strider can, but it's super ironic and cool."

"Just put me the fuck down, you insufferable prick!" I growl out at him, digging my nails into his hoodie.

"Is Kitten gettin' a bit antsy?" he teases, being the shitlord he is.

"If you don't put me down, I'll scream, and my dad will come and rant your ears off." I threaten.

"Uh-uh. Fuck that." He says, already setting me down on the branch beside him. "If your dad came, I'd be makin' a run for it."

When both of my feet are firmly planted on the branch, I reach up and pat his head. "Good boy."

"Bark." He says with as little enthusiasm as possible.

I pat his head once more for good measure before getting down to business. "Now where the fuck are you taking me?"

"It's a surprise. Come on." He begins to climb down the tree, gesturing for me to follow.

"I hate surprises." I grumble.

"You'll like this one. Now hurry up or else I'll have to carry you... While trying to climb down the big, scary tree..."

"Shove a dildo up your ass." I say as I ease myself down next to him.

"I'd prefer your dick." He states casually, jumping down the rest of the way.

Not one to be one-upped, I jump down as well, stumbling slightly upon landing. "You ain't getting jack shit from anyone, much less me, with how much of an asshole you are."

"Aw I love you too, babe." He intertwines our fingers. "Now let's go before your mom comes with a rifle."

I allow him to lead me away, not bothering to pay too close attention to where we're going. "She doesn't hate you _that_ much, Dave."

"No way. That woman has had a vendetta against me since the very start; no doubt about it." He says, shaking his head.

"She just wants to protect me or some bullshit like that. She means well."

"For you. She means well for you. Not for me. I swear she'd put a bullet through my brain at the drop of a dime if she could."

"Aw, is wittle Davey afwaid of the scawy mommy?" I tease, a grin on my face.

"What? No way, man." He stays silent for a moment, leading me through a stranger's backyard. "Just sayin'."

I roll my eyes. "Whatever."

We walk in comfortable silence along Alternia Avenue, the main road of my neighborhood. We cut through the community park onto the walking trails behind it. The course is mostly uphill, leading to the tallest of all the hills.

Dave plops onto the ground when we reach the highest point, and pats the ground beside him. I lay down next to him, looking up at the sky.

Though it's not even six of the clock, the sun is already making its way down to the horizon. A trail of vibrant reds and oranges is left in its wake, making the sky look as if it were on fire.

I look over to see Dave snap a few pictures of the breath-taking sunset on his phone. The light glares off his shades and illuminates his pale face with a red-orange tinge. When he notices my staring, he pointedly turns the camera towards me. I make a disgusted face after I hear the electronic click. He takes another picture of me- stink face and all.

"Oh, that one's bound to be gorgeous," I say, grimacing.

"Well, all pictures of you are gorgeous. So, yeah. Pretty bombass pic if you ask me." he says, flipping through the pictures he just took. He deletes a few of the sunset, but none of me.

"Yeah, sure." I roll my eyes, returning my gaze to the sky.

He lays down in the soft grass beside me, silently tucking an arm around my waist. I ease into his touch, just enjoying his presence and the beauty of the world around me.

Gradually, the sky darkens and dissolves into night. The moon is nowhere to be seen, however the sky is lit with the luminescence of what must be thousands of stars. The word seems so large from here. A beautiful, powerful mass remaining unconquered, despite what history text books claim.

Dave's hand intrudes upon my vision, pointing out towards infinity. "Look," he says, fully bring me out of my thoughts. "There's you."

I look where he's pointing, but all there is to see is more stars. "What are you talking about?"

"It's a consterlation: the crab. Just like you." I think that over for a moment, confused as to how that's at all related to me. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. He's smirking rather mischievously.

Realization dawns on me. "Shut up, bulge head."

He laughs. "Just remember: you asked this 'bulge head' out."

"Yeah, I can dump this bulge head too." I grumble, not meaning a single word of it.

He just laughs some more. By now, he knows better than to believe such threats.

"You know what else you've got in common with that there consterlation?" He asks, pointing up at said 'consterlation' again.

Warily, I dare to ask the dreaded question. "What?"

"You're both beautiful." he states simply, and pecks me on the cheek.

**So. Special people: Kurohana806, Mimikeehl-Jeevas, and shipperofnations. All a y'all get glomps and digital cookies.**

**MimiKeehl-Jeevas: Thank you, senpai. *kisses***


	18. At The Curtain's Call

**Did you know that it's been forever since I last updated? Wonder how many of y'all asswipes forgot about me since then... Either way, I'm back and ready to pull some cutesie shit outta my ass. Special people at the bottom! Kisses for those of you who've stuck around!**

Karkat's POV

I'm sitting in the front row in the school auditorium, ten minutes before the play Sleeping Beauty is scheduled to begin with a packed audience behind me. Naturally, I'm the director of this production. Clearly, no one else is enough of a leader (and enough of a willing candidate) for this job. My boyfriend, Dave Strider, is playing the leading role of Prince Phillip, but don't get it fucked up. He's a genuinely talented actor; I didn't just pick him for his cute face or whatever else.

I glance up from the script I'm glazing over to see him peeking his nose out around the curtains. With a quick glance around, he waves me over. I scamper to the edge of the curtains, bracing myself for some sort of bad news. After one last look around to assure himself that no one was paying attention to us, he slips his clunky Aviators a fraction of the way down his nose to reveal anxiety-ridden red eyes.

"I don't think I can do this." he says, eyes darting out at the crowd.

I frown. "Dave," I say in the softest tone I can manage.

He gnaws on his chapped bottom lip. "I just- fuck. Karkat, there's gotta be about a million people out there. We've got a crowd the size of fucking Texas, and there are just so many things that could go wrong. Like- like- get this- a light could fall from the ceiling and set my cape on fire, and then- then, maybe I might just forget about stopping, dropping, and rolling. Maybe- maybe I might just set the entire motherfucking stage on fire. And then-"

"Dave!" I yell. "Just calm your female mammary glands. All the lights are secure. Remember, we checked that before we even started any of this play shit."

He wrings his hands, filled with nervous energy. "Okay, but what if I trip and fall and knock over the background and- and then it falls down on everyone, then- then no one can even fucking move that shit off of people cuz everyone's underneath the goddamn background, so there ain't even nobody left to even try to move it- and then everybody starves to death in the school auditorium, and I get charged with serial killing and get sent to jail and then- then the bigger guys at jail decide to use me as a-"

"Dave, just stop. The background is literally a painted sheet hung from the ceiling. Even if you somehow managed to knock it over it would not be big enough to cover the entire motherfucking auditorium, and even if it was that big we wouldn't be stuck. It's a fucking sheet, we could easily lift it or crawl out, so no one's going to starve here. And- I'll even entertain this complete and utter bull shit one step farther- even if everyone died underneath the background in the school auditorium, how the fuck would officers come to the conclusion that _you_ killed everyone, much less that it were a planned event? And- you know what? One step farther- even if they somehow convicted you of serial killing in that particularly idiotic situation you just shat out before my very eyes, why would they send you to jail for it? You. Would. Be. Dead." I cut off that rant in the making (no need to make him paranoid of dying on stage).

Firmly, I put my hands on either of his shoulders. "Look at me, babe." I take a deep breath before resuming in a more calm voice. I stare straight into his brilliant ruby red eyes. "Everything will be okay. We've accounted for any potential problems. You've been practicing for months and months; it all seems so natural coming from you. You'll be amazing, and if you get to thinking everything won't be okay while you're up there, just look at me, pretend I'm the only one watching, just like we rehearsed.

Dave wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me into a hug. Gently, he rests his chin atop my head. "Okay," he says, sighing. " Thanks, kitkat."

Hearing yelling coming from behind stage, I prolongedly pull away from his embrace. "Guess that's my cue to get back there..." I use his shoulders to push me up onto my tiptoes to give Dave a quick peck on the lips. "If you forget a line, look at me; I'll be mouthing the words to the entire play. Breathe. Have fun. There'll be plenty of time for kisses after we show those assholes out there exactly how fucking amazing we are."

He lets out a breathy giggle at that. "All righty then. I totally expect a follow up on those kisses, man. Don't think I'll forget!"

Another distressed yell comes from backstage. I sigh. "Good luck (don't wanna know what he'd think of 'break a leg'). I'm sure you'll be great."

And with that, I hurry backstage to properly direct this shit.

**Kind'a short, but there ya go. Special people deserving of riches untold: shilo mochaisin, Bonnie Greyson, and Ivegotdafire. Don't forget to review~**


	19. It's The Last Of All

**Let's see if I can get this one out quicker than the last one, yeah?**

Dave's POV

This is it. Tonight's the night. No going back or backing out. I have to do this.

My name is Dave Strider, and today will be the last day I repress my love for my best friend, one Karkat Vantas.

My affections towards him had first came out in seventh grade. That's when I just started to notice certain things about him that I hadn't before. That's when I started to think a certain way about about him that I hadn't about anyone else. In all honesty, it was terrifying as fuck for plenty of reasons.

For one thing, I had never been too great at dealing with emotions. Generally, I made it a habit to ignore them and pretend they had never existed. But this feeling for Karkat? I couldn't ignore it, couldn't make it go away. I could barely, if at all, figure out the appropriate times to smile in a conversation. What the fucking shit was I supposed to do with this blossoming crush for my best friend?

And then, there's Bro. See, our parents died pretty early on in my life. A car crash. I was six years old. Bro had just turned eighteen. He was ready to do all the stupid shit that young adults do. But then he got stuck taking care of me, and he had resented me for it ever since. He had always told me, for as long as I could clearly remember, how I just wasn't good enough: not old enough, not cool enough, not strong enough- not enough. If he were to find out that I was gay, he would have killed me. Or at the very least pounded the shit out of me until I wished I'd never been born. Not like he didn't do that all the time anyways, but whatever. It would've gotten way worse for sure.

So what's a kid to do?

I couldn't squash these feelings, so I did the best thing I could manage: I hid it. What else was there for me to do? I wasn't going to throw my entire life away over some stupid little crush. It would pass. It had to; that's what crushes do.

Come eighth grade, it still hadn't passed. Still, I ignored it. About half-way through the school year, Karkat came to school with bruises. When I asked him about it, he told me to not worry about it. What- me worried? I wasn't worried. I just needed to know what had happened. Right away. Immediately. Or death would come for me. So he told me what had happened. Apparently, his dad was an abusive asshole, had been for years. And his dad had found out he was bisexual. So, he'd received an ass kicking and a promise of more to come if he dared step out of line.

I wanted to reach out to him, wanted to tell him that we were in the same boat, that I'd try to help him through it. But why would I have done something like that? It would have caused more trouble than it would've been worth. It would only have increased the likelihood of Bro figuring out that I was gay. Maybe it would've even made it worse for Karkat somehow. At least that's what I told myself. I was no hero. I couldn't be. I wasn't old enough, wasn't cool enough, wasn't strong enough. I just wasn't enough.

Time passed, but my feelings for Karkat hadn't. If anything, they had only become stronger. We entered high school. Ninth grade already. Things at home started getting considerably worse for me. Bro had taken to refusing me food. I was only to have three skimpy meals in a week- and that was only if I acted the way he wanted me to. Only if I treated him with the fearful respect he had come to expect from me. I hated it. I hated it, and I couldn't do jack shit about it.

Karkat started to notice that something was wrong, but I reassured him that everything was fine. I couldn't tell him the truth. If Bro found out I'd been such a pussy and told on him- I couldn't even imagine what he'd do to me. Of course my reassurances meant nothing to Karkat. He knew something was wrong, but I still didn't tell him, couldn't tell him. I couldn't let him see how small I was, how pathetic I was, how weak I was. I just couldn't. Surely, he would've hated me. He would've hated me just like Bro did.

The following summer vacation was way worse than any I'd had before. I had no reprise from Bro, and he wasn't getting any more lenient with me. He demanded perfection, and I just wasn't good enough to give him that. I hated that, hated myself. Why the fuck couldn't I get it right? Why was I always such a goddamn fuck up?

In tenth grade, I started to self harm. I deserved it. I fucking deserved it. Karkat figured out what was going on within a month of it starting. Of course he did. My cuts had reopened during lunch hour, and he had followed me to the bathroom when I went to clean up the blood. When he saw what I had done, I was so sure he would hate me. I would hate me if I were in his position. But instead of being disgusted with me the way I had thought he would be, he was hysterical. It chilled my bones; he looked more terrified seeing what I'd done to myself than he had when he had told me about his dad. He helped me clean up the inevitable mess I'd made, and begged me not to ever do it again. I promised I wouldn't hurt myself anymore just to calm him. I hadn't wanted this, hadn't wanted my weakness to hurt him, but it had. I had never hated myself more.

Later on that very same week, I found myself sinking back into old habits. I was cutting again. I did my best to hide it from him; I really did. But my best efforts weren't enough. It just wasn't enough. After only a few days, he cornered me during PE, and demanded to see my arms. Obviously, my immediate thought was to refuse. If I pushed back the sleeves of my jacket to show him, not only would he have seen further displays of my weakness; he would've seen bruises from Bro. But my heart twinged with the pleading look he gave me, and I found myself taking off my jacket, thus revealing the evidence of all my faults. My skin had crawled. It felt so wrong to make myself so vulnerable. He gently traced my scars, frowning, then went on to examine the dark bruises on my forearms.

He didn't ask how I had gotten them, but I found that the words were tumbling from my tongue uncontrollably. I told him everything. I told him about my parents, about Bro and all the shit he'd put me through, about how terrified I was that he'd find out that I was gay.

Well, I told him nearly everything. I didn't tell him about my feelings for him, couldn't find the words to describe how much I cared for him and appreciated all the times he had been there for me when I wasn't there for him, wouldn't tell him that I never wanted to leave his side.

The following summer vacation was way better than any I'd had before. Things were still terrible at home, worse than they had been the previous year actually. Yet it was so much better, because of Karkat. We had routinely met up at odd hours of the night over the summer. We became closer friends than ever. He was there to remind me that I _was_ old enough, I _was_ cool enough, I _was_ strong enough. And I did the best I could to support him the same way.

Eleventh grade rolled around. There was to be a winter dance for juniors and seniors only. Feeling that I could trust Karkat with anything, I decided to ask him to go with me. After school, I planned out how to ask. I wrote about twenty drafts, and then threw away about twenty drafts. I started to doubt my decision to ask at all. Then, Bro found my crumpled drafts. That's when all hell broke loose. When I came home from school the next day, he beat me black and blue, shoved a dildo up my ass, and facefucked me. When he finally left, I showered for hours, carefully removing all traces of his cum, scrubbing my skin raw where he'd touched me. But I couldn't get rid of the sensation.

I decided that maybe I shouldn't ask Karkat out. I stopped meeting up with him. I was so scared, scared that he would find out what had happened just the way he had with everything else, scared that he'd see me for the worthless piece of shit I was.

Christmas vacation rolled around, and I ran away. I couldn't fathom spending an entire two weeks at "home". But Bro reported me missing, and eventually I was found and returned to him in a half-frozen, half-starved state. Of course, he punished me for leaving. Of course he did.

When school started again, I did my best to continue avoiding Karkat, but, as always, I fucked it all up again, and he eventually forced me to talk to him. He had been so scared, scared that he had done something wrong, scared that I'd started too see him for the worthless piece of shit he thought he was. I could barely believe it. I swore up and down to him, it wasn't his fault, he'd always been perfect and beautiful and a way better friend than I had ever deserved. I could never think poorly of him, not him, not ever. I promised I wouldn't leave without explanation ever again. How could I, if it would hurt him?

Things started to quiet down at home. Bro was spending more and more time out. Probably drowning himself in some bar somewhere. Whatever. He was around less and less, giving me the time and space I needed to try to heal from what he'd done. I hung out with Karkat more, occasionally being so daring as to invite him over.

Finally, our senior had come. Once again, there was to be a junior-senior winter dance. I was still wary of asking Karkat to go with me. He brought the dance up in a conversation at two in the morning at the park. He wanted to know if I had any plans to ask anyone out. I laughed nervously. Of course not... Of course not... I asked him the same. He laughed too. Don't be ridiculous. Who would he even ask? He carefully avoided looking me in the eye, and I did the same for him.

Over the course of our senior year, more and more of these moments popped up. Both of us too afraid to say anything, afraid to do anything.

Well, we've both graduated now. We're both eighteen. Maybe, hopefully, I'm old enough now, cool enough now, strong enough now. I see him pass the swing set in the moonlight. He climbs to the top of the monkey bars and sits next to me.

"What's up, shit head?" I ask as light-heartedly as I can considering the weight of the words I plan to spit out tonight, the words I_ will_ spit out tonight.

"Not much, ass wipe. I'm just doing what all adults do. Hanging out at the park with a friend." He air quotes the word "adults" as he speaks.

Nervously, I clear my throat. "Yeah, about that," I start, hands fidgeting. "We're adults now."

Karkat rolls his eyes. "Oh, really?"

I frown at him. "Karkat, I'm not joking around. I got some serious shit to lay down. More serious than you could even fathom. Like this shit's gonna be the most adultiest thing I ever say in my entire life, and when you hear it you'll just be like-"

"Dave," he interrupts. He gives me a meaningful look.

"Yeah," I clear my throat again. "Right".

I take a deep breath, in and out, before continuing. "Karkat, we're adults now, and I feel like I need to be honest with you about something I've been tryin to sweep under the rug for years."

I force myself to look him in the eye. "You see, the thing is, I think I'm actually in love with you."

Nevermind looking him in the eye. Instead, I look down at the grass below us. "And, well, maybe this'll sound a bit... cliche... but, if you'd be willing or interested, I guess... Maybe we could run away together. Ditch town and never come back."

What's he thinking? Fuck. I look back at him. "I mean even if you say no, I'm still leaving. Actually, if you say no I'm definitely leaving. I can't- No, I _won't_ spend the rest of my life in this shithole. And. Well. If I were to make a new start with anyone in the world, I'd want it to be you."

His face scrunches up in thought. He looks me over, as if sizing me up. "Seriously?"

Biting my lip, I nod.

Karkat looks down at the ground. I can see the gears in mind turn. Slowly, he speaks. "Well, shit,"

My stomach drops. Oh, fuck. He's gonna say no. He's gonna say no. I'm such a stupid piece of shit for ever having believed he actually liked me or that we were of like minds. He probably hates me now. Oh, god.

He interrupts my rising internal panic. "So, when are we leaving?"

I look up at him, relief flooding my mind.

"I mean, you've kept me waiting this damn long, so you'd better be getting on this shit quick, right?" A cautiously excited smile appears on his face.

I pull out two one-way tickets out for him to see. "You'd better go pack your bag now, 'cause we're supposed to be out of the state by seven this morning."

Now, all caution gone, a grin spreads across his face. "Holy shit." He gives me a quick peck on the lips, then jumps down. "Well come on then!" he yells back at me.

I jump down after him, happy for the first time for as long as I could remember.

**Ta-dah! Longer and quicker than last time.**

**Special people deserving of glomps and digital cookies: MimiKeehl-Jeevas and Streaking Shadows.**

**MimiKeehl-Jeevas: Aw I missed you too, dollface! (insert heart here) And as always I'm glad to remind you exactly how much you need various types of Dave shenanigans. :3 **


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